Imitation
by Aradia1013
Summary: Ron and Harry discover a potentially explosive secret during an investigation at Malfoy Manor. Warning: LEMONS, bad language. First fic on this site. Fic may veer in a number of directions, so I'm selecting the "General" category.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing, just playing with JKR's wonderful toys. First fic on this site - please be gentle. Story takes place a few years after the War. If you aren't of age, stop reading now - here there be lemons.

"Aurors Potter and Weasley: you are needed at Malfoy Manor immediately for investigation of a T510."

As Minister Shacklebolt's Patronus faded, Auror Second Class Ronald Weasley looked bemusedly at his best mate.

"T510? Isn't that a unicorn run amok?"

Harry sighed at Ron's ignorance, and pushed his glasses to the top of his nose. "Nope. Unicorn run amok is a B510. T510 is code for Use of a Dark Object." And Ron wondered why Harry had made First Class? The brunette grabbed his cloak and was out the door before Ron even got his feet off the desk.

-DMHG-

Two of the benefits of being a post-War Auror were training in stealth Apparition, and increased ability to break through wards. Harry and Ron got into Malfoy Manor so quietly, they weren't detected even by the house elves. Part of T510 procedure was to cast a tracking spell in order to be guided as quickly as possible to the dark object in question. Harry murmured the charm, and the tip of his wand turned yellow. Following it through the corridors of the mansion, he noticed it was deepening in color to orange. _All we need now is "red."_

The wand's tip glowed cherry outside of a closed door. Harry gestured to Ron to keep silent, cautiously opened the door, and two-thirds of the Golden Trio got the shock of their lives.

Rather than an opulent bedroom, they found themselves looking at what Harry was certain was an Order safe house's kitchen during the War. This was odd, but not nearly as disturbing as what he saw next.

Hermione Granger was riding a flushed, groaning Draco Malfoy on the kitchen table. The lovers' bodies shone from exertion, their eyes shut, too wrapped up in the sensation to notice the intruders. Her head was thrown back, with her hair cascading down to the pert arse Ron still saw in his dreams. Malfoy's large hands grasped her hips as he jammed her ruthlessly onto him. His pelvis rolled as he worked patterns inside her, drawing increasingly guttural cries from her choker-clad throat. Harry and Ron obviously had arrived near the end. Hermione shuddered violently in pleasure as Malfoy's back arched. He pulled her against him one last time, and emptied himself into the beautiful young woman.

The Aurors couldn't have been there more than a moment or two, but it felt like an eternity. Harry heard a loud THUNK to his left, and realized Ron had fainted. Resolving to speak to the ginger later about keeping a cool head, he leveled his wand at the pair. "I don't know what the HELL is going on here, but by order of the Ministry of Magic, Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest for Use of a Dark Object. Move away from Hermione!"

The pair jumped away from each other, and the girl looked at him in wonder. "Is that Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived?"

"Yes, Angelique, that's the Boy Who Lived to Ruin My Life," Malfoy muttered bitterly. "What do you want, Potter? We were in the middle of something, in case you hadn't noticed. And what's this about a Dark Object? The only object I've been interested in using tonight is right here." With that, the blonde grabbed his crotch, and raised a challenging brow at his old nemesis.

Harry stared in confusion, and lowered his wand slightly. "Angelique? Malfoy, there was a report of a trace of dark magic here. Ron and I were sent to investigate. Explain. And for Merlin's sake, cover yourself."

Malfoy leaned back wearily against the edge of the table. He gently pinched the bridge of his nose while he gathered his thoughts. "It isn't what it looks like. Harry Potter, meet Angelique, of Madam Giselle's."

"Madam Giselle's? Isn't that...um, a gentleman's establishment?"

"How delicate of you, Potter. It's a brothel. A very exclusive, expensive brothel, but a brothel nonetheless. So unless you want to arrest me for a slightly embarrassing business transaction, we're through here."

Angelique had been watching the exchange intently, and timidly raised her hand. "I think I know what drew you here, but I'm hoping I won't get in trouble for it. Please, Mr. Potter. If you arrest me or take it away, I'll lose my livelihood."

Two sets of interested eyes turned to her then, and she reached for her necklace, "This is property of Madam Giselle, and it's rarely used. Only for certain clients, in special situations."

"Take it off, please, and pass it to me." The girl shakily complied, and both men were stunned as she transformed before their eyes into a tall, willowy blonde.

Harry examined the choker closely, noting the intricate patterns in the gold, and the stone in the center. It changed color as he moved it in the light. "Goblin made? What's the gem?"

"Yes, many years ago. It's an enchanted Alexandrite. The necklace gives the wearer the ability to shapeshift into another human form. Mr. Malfoy had requested Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Granger? What is this, Malfoy? Some kind of sick joke?"

"No comment, you pillock. If you want to arrest me, give me a minute to throw something on, and we'll go. Don't forget your pet Weasel. Is he ever good for anything other than stuffing his freckled face? I suppose you could use him as a doorstop right now. Hmph- might be an improvement."

Harry looked at the still-unconscious Ron, and shot an Ennervate at him. Weasley sat up, looking about wildly. "Harry? Where's Mione? We saw her, right? I mean...we SAW her, with...with...that!"

Harry shook his head and shrugged. "Yes and no, Ron. I'll explain when we get back to the Ministry. Malfoy, get dressed. We aren't done by a long shot. You too, Angelique. You'll need to provide a statement. I'm going to have to confiscate the necklace indefinitely. Have Madam Giselle contact the Aurors' Office if she has questions, and tell her I said it wasn't your fault. You helped her establishment by cooperating instead of making us hunt for it." With that, he sent up a silent prayer: _Please let the coffee machine be working, and the first aid kit still contain a headache potion - I have a feeling this is going to be a long night._

Finally, with a quietly seething Malfoy, a frightened and embarrassed Angelique, and a confused (and hungry) Ron, Harry Apparated back to headquarters.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Aurors' headquarters is never a pleasant place to be, and arriving at 3:00 a.m. didn't improve it any. The space was dim and cramped, with the odor of old coffee and cigarettes permeating the air. Some visitors who were especially sensitive to psychic remnants reported nausea from the traces of former prisoners' magical signatures.

Harry put Malfoy in one interview room, and Angelique in another. He had the oddest feeling about this case, and something was telling him to keep Ron as far from it as possible. He secretly sent a message to Shacklebolt regarding his intuition, and waited for a reply.

In the meantime, Harry took a few minutes to reassure his friend that the woman they saw Malfoy shagging was most assuredly not Hermione Granger. While Ron was still greatly upset by what he had witnessed, he allowed Harry to calm him somewhat, so that at least Harry didn't have to worry about the redhead storming into Interview Room Two and breaking Malfoy's skull open. Not that Harry didn't have the urge himself, but it was so important to remain collected as an Auror. Which reminded him: _still need to have that talk with Ron. _

Fifteen minutes later, Kingsley's Patronus arrived with an urgent report of a B510. The unicorn was said to be especially wily, and very skilled in hiding itself. However, the Minister felt that only one Auror would be necessary to handle the case. As Senior Auror, Harry should stay at headquarters, per Kingsley. Harry graciously offered to handle the Malfoy matter in Ron's absence, and grinned to himself as Weasley left to deal with the new 'emergency.'

So, who to interview first? The lady or the snake? Speaking with Angelique would be more pleasant, and waiting would really piss off the albino bastard. Angelique it is, then. He poured two cups of coffee, adopted his best non-threatening "I'm here to help you" look, and shouldered his way into Room One.

"Angelique. Sorry about the circumstances, I know you're just trying to make a living. Here- I brought you something." He set the coffee before her, pulled a chair over, and sat.

"Mr. Potter, I want to help any way I can. Really, anything I can do, I would be happy to... for you."

"For me, and to avoid Azkaban, right? Probably in the opposite order," he smiled slightly as she blushed at being caught out, and continued, "It's okay. I don't have any intention of arresting you. If anything, I may have a few choice words for Madam Giselle. Please, if you could just tell me how this all came about with Malfoy, I'd be grateful."

Angelique took a deep breath, and appeared to be contemplating how much to disclose. "Well, it's been going on since the end of the War. I'm the sixth "Hermione" that's been sent to him, and the only one he's requested more than once."

"What happened with the others?"

"Various things, from what I heard. They weren't intelligent enough, didn't move properly, spoke incorrectly, smelled wrong, and something about not having enough fire."

"Admittedly, that last part does sound especially like Hermione. Is it always the same locale? It seemed awfully specific for a fantasy." _Please let me be wrong..._

Angelique glanced at him, then lowered her eyes to the floor. "It isn't a fantasy, Mr. Potter. Every "Hermione" was shown a memory in Madam Giselle's Pensieve, so they would have an idea of how to act, and what to say."

"So you're telling me that that rotten, two-faced, ex-Death Eater bastard slept with my best friend?"

"Not exactly, Mr. Potter. I'm telling you that he loved her. Still does. That's the special circumstance. You know, if I ever had a man love me that much, I'd never let him go."

Harry stared at the grain in the interview room's table as he pondered this. The words "love" and "Malfoy" had never occurred to him in the same thought, unless it was something about loving to see Malfoy gone. And what of Hermione? Had his friend ever returned the Slytherin's feelings? He knew he was going to have to ask her, but he would rather blow the Giant Squid. Which would be the worse answer to hear, that she'd never cared for Malfoy, or that the feeling was mutual? And if Malfoy supposedly loved her so bloody much, why hadn't he gone to her after the War ended? Lucius was in Azkaban, Narcissa was under house arrest, and Draco had long since finished his community service and the re-education program. None of this made any sense.

"Thank you for your statement, Angelique. You're free to go. Please tell Madam Giselle I'll be in touch shortly," he rose to escort her out of the office.

The girl offered him a small, sad smile as she pushed away from the table. "You're welcome, Mr. Potter. And please, try to be understanding regarding Mr. Malfoy. He means Miss Granger no harm, if his treatment of me is any gauge."

"I'll take that into consideration. Good night." Harry gently shut the door. As soon as she was gone, he went back to his desk, located the headache potion, and downed the entire vial. Likely wouldn't need any less to deal with the Ferret.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.

A/N: They discuss Hermione in this chapter, but we won't see her until one more chapter after this.

The clock read 4:00 a.m. in the Aurors' Headquarters, and Harry was knackered. He'd done the paperwork for Angelique's interview, and decided he couldn't put off the odious task of speaking to Malfoy any longer.

He stopped outside of Interview Room Two, and peered through a small window set in the door. Malfoy was leaning forward, his elbows on the table. His hands scrubbed tiredly at his face. As if possessed of some sort of Potter-seeking radar, he straightened up and looked directly at the portal, his arctic grey gaze seeming to drill through the glass. His countenance once again bore the stoic mien that was a trademark of the Malfoy family. Harry wondered to himself if this was a learned behavior, or did they come out of the womb that way? His mind ran with the idea, attempting to imagine Malfoy as a haughty, self-important infant with slicked-back hair. At any other time, the thought might have amused him. Now, he grumbled and dragged his imagination back into line.

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy called out, "I know you're there, Potter. I can hear you dithering. Might as well come in, and let's get this over with."

_Well, here goes nothing..._the Auror stepped into the room, and the interview began.

"How did you know I was out there, Malfoy? Your file had you listed as an accomplished Occlumens, but I don't remember anything about Legilimency being mentioned."

"Nothing so complicated as that, Potter. I could just feel eyes on me, and at this time of the morning, who else would it be? It was either you or that ginger menace. As I heard no growling, and no one broke into the room trying to kill me, I concluded it was you. Where _is_ Weasley? Have you got him on a leash?"

"Ron's, uh, dealing with an emergency that arose after we arrived. I told him I would handle this matter on my own," Shrewd green eyes assessed Malfoy for a reaction.

To Harry's surprise, the former Death Eater relaxed back into his seat, and released a deep breath. "While I am sure you didn't do it for me, Potter, I'm grateful for however the 'emergency' came about. It's bad enough having to discuss anything with you. I didn't know how I would answer questions with him in the room."

"Veritaserum would have worked wonders, I'm sure," Harry said dryly. "Look Malfoy, I don't want to have to ask about this any more than you wish to answer. But I finished interviewing Angelique, and came away with more questions than when I started. This is turning into a dog's breakfast."

"I know," Malfoy answered in a surprisingly soft voice. He didn't seem inclined to say more.

"She said something actually happened between you and Mione, and that you _loved_ her. What do you have to say for yourself?" Harry never had much patience for the obnoxious Pureblood, and he could his small reserve dwindling by the second.

Malfoy winced as he responded, "Potter...please. Let the matter lie. It's been a few years already, I didn't hurt anyone. Just leave it."

"I can't. For so many bloody, buggering reasons, I can't!" Malfoy shrank back in his seat slightly as Harry leaned quickly across the table and got near his face. "If it will go easier for you, and get me the story faster, I can go get the Veritaserum. Your call."

"That won't be necessary," Malfoy sighed resignedly. "Can you at least promise me that if I give you the story, you'll leave Granger alone about it? From what I've heard, she's still got some serious emotional fallout from the War. She doesn't deserve this."

"I can't make that promise. Besides the fact that this is an official investigation because of the necklace, I've got to look out for my best friend. It's never been easy to get her to speak of what happened, and I know there are parts she's refused to discuss at all. She was dreaming one night, and I thought I was losing my mind when I heard her say 'Draco.' She insisted I must have misheard when I asked her about it."

"Precisely why I wish you wouldn't mention this to her. Hell, I'll beg you if it would help. If she hasn't been willing to tell you anything, what effect do you think it would have on her if you, or Merlin forbid, the Weasel, go barging in demanding information? In my own way, I've been looking out for her since the War, and I'm still trying to."

"How? What did you do? Just start at the beginning. How on earth did you and Hermione ever get together?"

"I've had private investigators and bodyguards keeping a discreet eye on her since the War ended. As far as she knows, a Good Samaritan stepped in and saved her from an attempted assault near the Ministry of Magic. On another occasion, my man removed a prowler hanging around her residence. I don't think she ever found out about it. As far as the beginning is concerned, I've got to take you back to close to the end of the War. Get me a Pensieve and shut up, and I'll show you."

Harry was quick to bring the Pensieve, and Malfoy grudgingly put a silvery strand of memory into it.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N - thanks to everyone for the follows, the favorite, and the review! I'm grateful to know that someone out there is enjoying this story. Note - minor character death in this chapter.

_DMHG_

"From what she told me, Granger had been secluded at the Order's Malloy Manse safe house for a couple of weeks, working on a counter-curse for the Dark Lord's latest weapon. Nasty spell, that. The victim would run an exceptionally high fever, get dehydrated, and their blood would congeal. Didn't matter how much fluid was put back in, or how quickly, the curse would continue until the recipient died in agony. She said I showed up close to midnight, just as she was getting ready to try to sleep. I somehow flooed into the living room."

"How could that have been possible? We had wards on the place. How did you even find it?"

"Purely by accident, Potter. I had been seriously injured, but my attackers had left me near a floo. I always keep a small stash of floo powder with me, in case of emergency. When I threw in the powder and called out for Malfoy Manor, I must have slurred or misspoke. Now that I think about it, I believe I had a distant ancestor named Malloy. That might be how I got in." The blond frowned, considering. Harry took a deep breath, and put his face in the Pensieve.

_Hermione was staring down at a broken, bloodied Draco Malfoy lying on the rug. He looked like he'd been chewed up, gargled and then spit out by a manticore. Parts of his precious platinum hair were burnt off at the scalp, the skin blistered and a deep red. He had a jagged cut across his chest, and something metal was embedded in his thigh. Virtually every other bit of skin visible was either black, blue, yellow or green. Someone had worked him over for days. At least three of his fingers and one knee were dislocated, pointing in different directions. _

_She Accio'd his wand, and knelt next to him. His bleary, bloodshot eyes focused on her. His breathing was ragged, and all he was able to say was a quiet, "Please." Hermione regarded him for a moment, and then began working on him, and the memory ended._

"Malfoy, I thought you were going to put all of your memories in there. What gives?"

"The next set of memories was primarily about the pain I was in, and her taking care of me. While I'm sure you'd enjoy seeing me hurt, I don't think it's relevant to the case. I'd been beaten so badly, I hadn't the strength to snark at her for some time. Truth be told, I was already sick of the blood purity shite and the Dark Lord. I'd have been thrilled if he'd buggered off, and took my father with him straight to hell.

I couldn't understand it, you know. She tended to my wounds with the utmost compassion, and without fail. I'd been horrible to her for years, and she put that aside without a second thought to help me. She could have put me outside to die, and we both knew it, but she never brought that up. Not once did she hold that over my head, even on days when I know I was a miserable prick."

"Isn't that pretty much any day that ends in 'y'?"

"Silence, Potter. You wanted to hear this." Harry rolled his eyes, and bade Malfoy continue.

"I wasn't sure what she was going to do with me once I was healed, and as it turned out, neither was she. Honestly, Potter, if I hadn't been wounded, or if it had taken less time to recuperate, things might have gone very differently. As it was, I was forced to stay there and interact with her. We were both lonely, and scared. Uncertain of the future. Worried about dying. It must have been a lot like your Hogwarts years. Anyway, once I was well enough, I started working with her on the counter-curse."

"Wait a minute - why would she possibly shelter you and not inform the Order?"

"At first, she was afraid of what they would do to me, since I was in such a state. She figured they wouldn't let me stay there, and the move would likely have killed me. You know Granger and her bleeding heart. Later, she said that she saw something in me worth keeping around. Somewhere in the midst of all of this, enmity turned into a wary neutrality, followed by tentative friendship, and then so much more. At least on my part. She hid me for several weeks, even when Order members came to check on her. I liked to think it was because my feelings were returned, though she never said. It's not like we sat down and talked about our feelings.

Then came the raid that killed Thomas, and wounded Finnegan. She went mental when she got the owl. I made the mistake of trying to go to her; to comfort her. She beat the hell out of my chest, and left some horrid bruises on my shins. She even went for the jewels. Called me every name in the book. Some epithets I couldn't believe she knew, much less would use. When she got tired of screaming, she broke down in my arms. I held her like that the rest of the night. That's when I knew I loved her."

Malfoy pulled an empty glass toward him, and conjured some water.

"We both knew it was getting time for me to leave, and I had a cover story for the Dark Lord regarding my absence. Told him I'd been jumped by Order members, and was taken in by an old couple, whom I Obliviated when I left. Funny thing - I still don't know who messed me up so badly.

The day I left, I stepped close to her to hug her goodbye, and now we get to the part where I won't be providing details, because you pretty much saw a replay in Malfoy Manor this evening. It was unplanned, unexpected and utterly brilliant."

"But the kitchen table? Really, Malfoy..."

"Did you not hear the 'unplanned' part? Honestly. Live a little, Potter. Continuing; I owed her a life debt, and I tried to tell myself that this was the reason I asked her to inform me whenever she would be on a raid or a mission. If I was at the same location, I would do everything in my power to protect her without tipping my hand. I also started passing information to her regarding the raids she told me she would be on."

"When did that start?"

"Probably about three weeks before the end of the War. Why?"

Harry smiled grimly, "that fits. That's about the time she started insisting we take her along on the most dangerous raids. A number of them we considered suicide missions, and somehow we came through. Here I thought it was because I was a good strategist."

"Outmaneuvered by Granger again? I'm sure you're used to it, by now."

"Shut up, you wanker," was said with noticeably less heat. "So you helped the Light? Why didn't this come out during your trial? You know it could have influenced your sentence."

"Several reasons: we had never talked about what was happening between us, or if anyone else should know. There were still Death Eaters and sympathizers out there, and this would have endangered her further. Besides, when you get to the heart of things, I deserved punishment. I did terrible things during that time, Potter."

"We all did things we aren't proud of. It's part of war. Besides, it was established that most, if not all of what you did was under duress."

"Does it really matter? I still caused people's deaths. I let Voldemort's followers into Hogwarts. The only violent thing I'm not ashamed of is every time I Avada'd someone threatening Granger."

"How many times?"

"Four. Two of which I know she saw. When I went on raids, if I had a chance to pick up a wand from another Death Eater or an Order member, I'd nick it and keep it for future conflicts. It got to where I kept my wand in its sheath, and used the other wands as primaries."

A weak chuckle escaped the brunette's lips as he regarded his former nemesis, "in your own inimitable, fucked-up, homicidal kind of way, you really did love her, didn't you?"

"Still do. Which brings us to what you saw tonight. I have no illusions about what the Malfoy name means these days. I know I'm a mess, that I drink too much, and that other than money, I don't have much to offer her. She deserves better. So when I've hired girls like Angelique, it's the closest I can get to _her._ And some nights, in the right lighting, and after a shitload of Firewhiskey, I can almost believe it's enough. This is my way of coping without bothering Granger. I can't get that time in the kitchen, or her, out of my mind."

"That was the only time you, you know?"

"Yes, Potter. Only the kitchen table was abused in such a manner. The sideboard, china cabinet and desk in the study remain pure," Malfoy rolled his eyes, and if there was such a thing as a slightly sad smirk, he wore it.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. He finally looked up at Malfoy with a small, tired smile. "You're free to go. I'll finish the paperwork as soon as you leave. I'll be in touch if any other questions arise, and I'll do my best to keep anyone else from knowing about this. Kingsley will have to be told, though."

"Understood. Thank you for your discretion, Potter. Not for me; I doubt after everything that happened during the War that I have much pride left, but I truly hope you can keep her out of it."

"Unfortunately, we both know that isn't going to happen. All we can do is hope that some good comes out of this. Maybe telling the story will finally help Hermione to heal."

Like so many years ago at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy extended his hand to Harry Potter. This time, it was accepted. After a brief shake, Malfoy Apparated home, leaving Harry alone with his increasingly troublesome thoughts.

Just as Harry was puzzling for the 50th time how to open the conversation with Hermione, a sweaty, flustered Ron Apparated into the office with a loud CRACK.

"Bloody hell, Harry! That damned unicorn led me a merry chase all through town up into the hills and back, and then I lost it! I swear it was teasing me. If I fell too far behind, it seemed like the beast would wait for me to catch up. It was fast, too. Coming back into town, I ran into Looney Lovegood. She said the unicorn went by her in a blur, and vaguely pointed away. By then, it was already gone."

"Really, Ron? Sounds like it's a good thing Kingsley's got you going after it, then. Can't have some wild creature rampaging unchecked."

"Well, I guess I'll wait for the next B510 to come in. Not much I can do about it now if the rotten beast is missing. How did things go with Malfoy and the whore?"

"Tactful, Ron. Very tactful. You've been practicing haven't you?" Ron grimaced slightly and shrugged. "It went fine. I already did Angelique's paperwork, and finished Malfoy's interview."

"You need any help talking to Hermione-"

"That's okay, Ron. Chances are you're going to be busy with that unicorn when it comes back, and you know how you hate being in embarrassing situations. How do you think this will go with Hermione? How am I supposed to broach the topic? 'Hi, Hermione. How've you been? Work going well? Nightmares getting any better? You getting enough rest? Oh, and by the way - why did you shag Malfoy?' Please, just kill me now."

"Well, when you put it like that mate, I think I'll stay here to keep an eye on the office and wait for another report to come in. You be careful, yeah? Don't let her point her wand anywhere near your bollocks; she can be positively evil. She shrunk mine to the size of marbles once, and made them plaid for good measure."

"Duly noted. Wish me luck," Harry headed for the floo.

"Luck, Harry." _Better you than me, _Ron whispered under his breath.

A/N - Hermione's up next.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

A/N - I am amazed at the follows and the reviews. Thank you all so much for your interest in this story! This chapter was tough to write; your interest is what made me do it anyway. It's a super-long chapter, because once Hermione got going, it's tough to tell where to stop. Obviously, this is non-canon.

_DMHG_

Two days had passed since Harry had interviewed Malfoy. His office had fielded several increasingly irate floo calls from Madam Giselle, demanding her necklace back. Harry had finally gone to the establishment (he still felt odd trying to say 'brothel') to speak with her directly. After he laid on the flattery, and several thinly veiled threats that would have made Lucius himself proud, the woman ungraciously conceded defeat. For now.

He went through a mental checklist regarding the case: _Angelique's statement - check; Malfoy's statement - check; Dark Object secured - check; Madam Giselle temporarily subdued - check. _

Which led him back to the one item he hadn't checked off yet - speaking with Hermione. _Damn._

And Ron was still refusing to kill him.

Hermione had changed greatly since the War, much to her loved ones' dismay. The combat experience left a bone-weary, hardened woman in place of the eager, compassionate girl with whom he'd grown up. She was often distant, responding to queries with a newfound curtness that bordered on being rude. She never had suffered fools well; now she refused to put up with them, period. Harry figured that had led to the breakup between her and Ron. It had been quick, but not painless. What patience and affection she had shown Ron in their earlier years was all but gone as they tried to make a go of it right after the War ended. Ron had pushed for it; Hermione seemed to make a perfunctory effort, at best. Perhaps Ron had simply missed his window. Ron told Harry that she was cold and withdrawn, and that they slept together once, then she dumped him the next morning. She refused to discuss the relationship or the breakup with anyone. Even Ginny had given up after the first two years.

Naturally, Granger's attitude had not made her a favorite at the Ministry. In deference to her War Hero status (and after she sent three assistants fleeing tearfully from her office), Kingsley allowed her to do much of her work from home, as a magical researcher for the Law Enforcement Department. Harry had always expected she would move into a position in the Magical Creatures office, but it appeared she had lost interest in that, as well.

Harry could only hope that trying to interview her about this situation would be worth it. And that he didn't wind up with plaid bollocks, or worse. She had accepted his request for a meeting already, but that didn't make him feel any more comfortable. He took a deep breath, and Apparated to the alley next to her building.

_DMHG_

She opened the door on the second knock, and stepped back to let him enter. Her smile was wan, but Harry knew he was one of the only people who received a smile at all.

"Hello, Harry. How have you been? How are Gin and the kids?" She gave him a short, almost limp hug.

"Hello, Mione. They're well. They send their love...and they miss you."

Her eyes hardened at that, and her face took on a shuttered expression. "Won't you have a seat? Can I get you anything?"

"Er, no, thanks. Hermione, I'm actually here on Ministry business."

"Yes, your letter said that."

They sat there awkwardly, one not sure how to continue, and the other simply uninterested.

He tried again, "I'm sorry, there's no way to ease into this. And I want you to know that I wouldn't ask about any of this unless I had to, and-"

She cut him off - "Harry, just get to the point. What did you need to ask?"

"It's about Malfoy, and the War," _don'tflinchdon'tflinchdon'tflinchyou'reanaurorforgod'ssake_

The temperature in the room dropped a good 10 degrees.

"I'm not talking about that. You can show yourself out," she turned away.

The Auror shook his head and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Hermione, perhaps you missed the fact that this is official Ministry business. Believe me, if I could have found a way around this, I would have. I've already spoken to Malfoy, and he's given his side of things."

She sighed, turned slightly, and addressed him in profile: "Tell me everything."

So he stammered red-faced through a complete recounting of the events at Malfoy Manor, the enchanted necklace, and the interviews at Auror Headquarters. She rarely interrupted, saving him once from having to detail what Malfoy was doing with Angelique (he managed to choke out, 'kitchen table,' and she nodded in understanding). He noted that numerous expressions were flitting across her face, almost too quickly to catalog them.

"So that's why I'm here. I have to make sure all the loose ends are tied up, and to do that, I need your side of the story. Hermione, I promise that everything will stay completely confidential."

"And I can't just say, 'yes, Malfoy's telling the truth?"

"I need your side, in your words. If you want me to use Legilimency or Veritaserum, I'll do it. Rather not, though."

"For this, I'm going to need a drink."

"OK, would you mind making me a cup of tea, too?" He hoped he wasn't pushing his luck.

"Tea?" She snorted almost delicately, and returned with a bottle of Ogden's and two glasses. "Let's hope there's enough in here for me to get through this, cause I'm only telling it once. Don't bother me with questions during, or stop me otherwise, or I'll quit talking at that point. Understood?"

Harry nodded.

"Malfoy's memory of flooing in all beat up is accurate. I didn't know how he was still alive with the number of injuries he had. It did cross my mind for a moment to levitate him out to the woods, and I crouched next to him to see just how far gone he was. But then he looked up at me, and croaked out a 'please,' and I couldn't do it. Taking his wand away was almost a formality at that point. He couldn't have hurt a kitten in his condition.

His wounds and the dislocated bones took a while to heal. I didn't have much in the way of magical supplies. Some pain potions and a small amount of SkeleGro. My knowledge of Healing spells was rudimentary. I applied dittany to the cut, found him some firewhiskey and had him drink it before I tried resetting the bones. Gods, did he scream.

The first week, I had to feed him and tend to his personal needs. Grooming and going to the loo, Harry. Don't look at me like that. Having to depend on someone else so that you don't shit your trousers will knock the pride out of almost anyone, and Draco was no exception.

I could tell he was on the road to recovery when he finally started to make sarcastic comments again, and his smirk returned. Only now, neither were directed at me. His teasing had gentled somewhat. That's not to say that dealing with a hurt Draco Malfoy was a picnic. Some days I slipped a sleeping draught in his soup, just to stop the complaining for a while."

Harry grinned, but made sure not to comment. She continued,

"Remus and some of the Order members would stop by to check on my progress, or to see if I needed anything. Thankfully I always had advance notice of their visits, so I could levitate Malfoy to the attic. At first it was because I didn't think he would survive a move. He certainly couldn't have Apparated or flooed the way he was. Later on, I think I kept him around because I was so damned lonely, and he was decent company once he quit hurting so much. My own pet ferret," she smiled slightly.

"He started trying to help with the counter-curse I'd been working on, and it turned out he was pretty helpful, since he had quite the knowledge of the Dark Arts. I...began to notice that when he wasn't sneering or being caustic, he was quite attractive. We started taking all of our meals together, and we would sit in front of the fire at night, talking about what was happening with the War, or remembering things from before. He caught me up on all the Hogwarts gossip I'd missed over the years. Some nights the talk turned darker. We even discussed best and worst ways to die, and what we thought the world would be like if Voldemort won. He told me about some of the things that happened at Death Eater revels, and I vowed I'd Avada myself before I would allow them to take me."

Harry shuddered slightly at the thought. Her wan smile was back, "don't worry, Harry. It's all over, right?" The smile became a grimace.

"I think the turning point for us came the night I got the report about Dean and Seamus. Something in me just snapped, and I took it out on Draco. At that moment, he was back to being the Malfoy I'd known and hated. He just stood there, and took everything I dished up. He never said a word, just let me rage. I finally wound down, and he put his arms around me like I was made of spun glass. He held me while I sobbed my fucking heart out the rest of the night. The whole time, he remained silent.

So we were even. Each of us had seen the other at their most vulnerable.

We knew the War was reaching its peak, and that he would have to go soon. He didn't want to return to Voldemort's clan, but neither of us believed the Order would be willing to help his family. He needed to protect his mother. He demanded that I tell him any time I was going on a mission, and then he stepped forward to hug me goodbye, and I flashed back to when he held me all night.

I started it, Harry. I leant up and kissed him first. I was feeling so much, and honestly didn't know if I would ever see him again. Kissing him was like putting a match to gasoline. I don't think we could have stopped if we wanted to.

And we didn't want to.

I won't say that I regret it, because that would be a lie. It was the most incredible thing I've ever experienced, and maybe the last time I felt truly alive."

Harry prudently did NOT mention the kitchen table.

"I did as he asked, and informed him when I was about to participate in a raid. He sent me information regarding how many Death Eaters would be there, and pertinent information regarding the building. I brought it to the Order immediately. They determined that the less people who knew about my source, the better. I don't think they ever told you, even."

He simply shook his head, and took another sip of Ogden's. Hermione stopped to down her entire glass, and Harry cringed, wondering what would come next.

"Once I knew that he was truly committed to helping us, I insisted you bring me on the toughest assignments, to try to save the most Order members possible. I had started to feel rather odd at that time. Nausea came and went, and I felt somehow swollen. My emotions swung wildly.

I'm not stupid. I locked myself in my room one day, and performed the Pregnancy Charm. It glowed blue, and I had to decide: protect the life inside of me, or the lives of the Order? I didn't know how I would even take care of a baby, but I knew I couldn't intentionally end my pregnancy. And it was a tangible reminder of being with him, of feeling loved.

Then came the last raid before the final battle."

Hermione looked at her captive audience of one, and saw how Harry's eyes were tearing up behind his glasses.

"You always were smart. Figure it out yet? Don't worry - I _want_ you to answer this time."

"The curse you took for me."

"Give the man a prize," with a soft, bitter laugh. "You're exactly right, Harry. When I chose to jump in front of you to save you, I knowingly killed my child. I sacrificed my baby for you. And I've wanted to die every miserable goddamn day since.

I couldn't maintain anything with Ron after all of this. My heart belonged to Draco, and my soul belonged to Hell, for all I knew. I haven't been able to stand being around Ginny when she's pregnant, or your lovely children. I can't find it in my heart to be happy for you. I'm broken BECAUSE OF YOU!" She whipped her glass at the wall, and it shattered. Her eyes held an unholy light that terrified Harry, and her magic was agitated enough that various objects were flying around the room.

"I'd fucked, no - fallen in love with the enemy! How was I supposed to tell you or any of my other friends what I was going through? How do you think you would have reacted? It would have been either disgust or pity, and I could tolerate neither.

I never heard a word from Draco, and he wouldn't even look at me during his trial. I thought that time in the safe house was obviously a one-off, and he didn't care. I don't know what to make of the fact that he's screwing whores in my image.

And every bit of what I just shared with you made me die a little more inside, until it feels like there's nothing left. Please, Harry, just get out and don't come back." She fell back in her chair, and the flying objects landed wherever.

"Are you done?"

"Yes," she stared at the broken glass listlessly.

"Draco said he killed for you. You didn't mention that."

"I didn't. I saw no need to risk his getting into trouble."

"He wouldn't have been. He said it's the one violent thing he was proud to do."

"Two violent things."

"Four actually, but who's counting? As far as the prostitutes are concerned, I have it on good authority from several sources, including the man himself, that he's still in love with you. The girls were surrogates."

"Fat chance of that. Why has he never come back to me, then?"

"He was worried about Death Eaters or other whackos harming you for your involvement with him. In his way, he was trying to protect you. He also believed that he wasn't good enough for you, and staying away from you would be best. "

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Get out. I need to think."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter & Co., do you really think I'd be doing this? I'd be on a Mexican beach somewhere with a cabana boy named Raoul. Scratch that - I'd have a whole herd of cabana boys.

A/N - I'm temporarily angsted out after Chapter 5, so I'm bringing you a little levity today. Life seems to work that way, so it's good enough for me. In addition, it's September 11th, and I'm betting any American reading this can use a smile right now.

As always - I'm freaking blown away by the response. Thank you all again!

_DMHG_

Harry headed back into the alley after his conversation with Hermione, thinking _'that went well. Perhaps I could have insulted her parents or her muggle-born status while I was at it. Or killed her cat. Or pissed on her couch. Probably couldn't have made things any worse. She let her baby die, for me. I wonder if she'll ever speak to me again. I really ought to warn Malfoy.' _

He snorted. Malfoy was a big boy, and he figured Hermione would take her time thinking. The snarky berk likely had several days of relative safety before Hurricane Granger struck. Back to Headquarters it is, then. With any luck he'd be able to get his thoughts back under control. Unruly little buggers. He planned to give them the same stern talking-to that his imagination received recently.

The Auror sent a Patronus to Shacklebolt informing him that the official particulars of the Malfoy case had been handled, so he was closing the investigation. He would bring the report to Kingsley personally tomorrow morning, and brief him on the details.

Ron was chewing on a sandwich and using the hunt-and-peck method on a typewriter that had been ancient when Dumbledore was a child. He looked up with interest as Harry walked in.

"So...how'd it go? Still got your bollocks?"

Harry said nothing as he sat at his desk.

"OK, she take your tongue instead?"

The brunette pulled a bottle of Ogden's out of the desk drawer, and proceeded to drink straight from the bottle.

"Blimey, Harry- what did she _do_ to you?"

"She told the truth, Ron. ALL of it. I haven't heard her speak that much in two years. Frankly, I'd rather have had the plaid balls. Please don't ask about it. I was sworn to secrecy, and she'd be liable to murder us both if I say a word. Since that topic's off limits (Ron harrumphed), why don't you tell me how the B510 is going?"

He could see that the redhead was dying to ask if anything was said about his breakup with Granger, but a stern look from Harry made him file the question for later, if ever. Privately, Ron was convinced that Harry had spent entirely too much time around Molly Weasley. He had her glares and her intonations perfected. It was kind of scary, really. Sometimes like having an oversized, flesh-colored Howler with spectacles hanging about.

"Got another report in, last night. It's the oddest thing; the unicorn doesn't seem to do any real damage, it simply makes a huge nuisance of itself until someone contacts the Ministry. People have reported finding it in their gardens, their driveways, their living rooms, one person even came home to the unicorn in her kitchen (_don'tthinkofthetabledon'tthinkofthetable). _Damned odd, it is. I was just considering doing some research to see if I can learn any more about the creatures."

"That won't be necessary, Ronald Weasley." the voice that floated to them was as peaceful and ethereal as ever. Only one person sounded like that. The Aurors looked up almost in synch, to find Luna Lovegood standing in front of Ron's desk.

"Erm, anything I can help you with, Luna? You lose your Nargles or something?" Harry could see Ron was stroking the back of his neck. Sure sign of nerves.

"Oh, no. They always return on their own. I'm here to turn myself in." She regarded Ron placidly with those huge eyes.

Harry was intrigued. "Turn yourself in? What could you possibly have done, Luna?"

"Please step into the hallway with me." Ron looked uncertain. "NOW, Ronald Weasley." For someone seemingly so sweet, Luna had a surprisingly authoritative manner when she wanted to. Ron immediately began to wonder if she had spent much time with his mother, as well.

The Aurors followed her out to the hallway, which was much wider and higher than their office. She bade them stay where they had stopped, and she walked to the end of the hall. And began to stride toward them.

In seconds, there was Ronald Weasley's "rotten bloody beast." His reaction needn't be recorded in detail; suffice it to say he did not take the surprise well. Harry, meanwhile, was holding back laughter with everything he had.

The unicorn, of course, was perfectly fine with things. It meandered up to Ron, and gave him a tiny lick on the cheek before it reverted to their strange, blonde friend.

"I am an unregistered Animagus. Kingsley asked me recently to assist him in a training mission for Ronald. I hope it helped. Kingsley has given me permission to remain unregistered, as long as I inform the two of you regarding my ability. I'll be off now; I'm sure you're busy..."

And she left them in the hallway. Harry didn't fail to note that Ron had put a hand to his cheek where the unicorn had licked him, and he forgot to finish his sandwich back at his desk.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer - same as every other chapter. Not mine.

A/N - Thank you again for the reviews, follows and favorites! I'm trying to strike a balance between not moving this story too slowly or too quickly. I hate it sometimes when a story skips over a bunch of things just to have an easy conclusion. Next chapter will be Harry and Draco. Depending on how that conversation is written, Draco/Hermione will start next chapter, or the one after.

Harry dragged into the office early the next morning. He'd spent an uncomfortable night on the couch after his wife confronted him about finally hearing Hermione's story. Ron had owled her voicing his indignation at being kept off the case, and Ginny was furious when her husband flatly refused to give her any answers. He sighed as he fetched a cup of coffee. _Note to self: when I have that talk with Ron about keeping his composure, add a section about confidentiality. Use small words. No point having any talk with Ginny; might as well try to teach an ocelot to whistle._

His damned imagination promptly put tiny cat ears and a tail on Ginny. _Hmm...file that image for later._

The case file was kept in a safe only Harry or Kingsley Shacklebolt could open, and it was his next stop. He grabbed the reports, and took the elevator to Kingsley's floor. There he wound up waiting for approximately 20 minutes until the esteemed Minister was available, and he took that time to consider how he would share some of the harsher items.

At the end of those 20 minutes, he was no clearer on what to say than he'd been when he arrived.

The heavy oak door to the Minister's inner sanctum opened, and Shacklebolt invited Harry to enter. As soon as he sat down, he cast a _Muffliato_. Kingsley looked at him quizzically.

"Can't be too careful. And some of the details about this case are exceptionally sensitive, sir."

"What kind of details, Harry?"

"The kind that, against department policy, I've neglected to include in the file. I thought to brief you in person. If you want me to add anything to my report, let me know. It's just that I wouldn't want to see this information fall into the wrong hands."

"And who has the wrong type of hands?" The Minister was intrigued.

"Honestly? Pretty much everyone."

The distinguished wizard leaned back in his chair. "Begin."

Harry told him about the Malfoy raid, and Kingsley's eyes went wide as the Auror explained what the Dark Object was, and the risqué situation in which he had found it. He was fairly certain the Minister was blushing, though it was hard to tell. Given Auror Weasley's history with both Malfoy and the real Hermione Granger, Potter's decision to keep Weasley away from the case was commended. Harry omitted Ron's initial reaction at Malfoy Manor. The Minister was surprised when Harry told him that Malfoy had killed Death Eaters during battles to protect Hermione, and that he had been keeping a discreet security detail on her over the years.

Kingsley advised him to send any further communication from Madam Giselle to his office. "Giselle and I have history. I can handle her. She won't be getting that necklace back." His tone left no room for dissension. Not that there would have been any; Harry was profoundly relieved.

"Now, sir, is where things get, erm, sticky. This is where I quit documenting information. There's evidence that Draco Malfoy had a, well, I'm not sure what to call it, with Hermione, during the War. She healed him when he showed up at Malloy Manse, gravely injured. He stayed with her for several weeks while he was convalescing."

"And she failed to report his presence to the Order?" Shacklebolt's expression was caught somewhere between pensive and pissed.

"Yes. At first out of concern for his physical welfare. The reasons later are a bit more complicated. Neither of them believed the Order would be willing to take him if he changed sides, after what happened in sixth year. So the day he left, well, that was the scene he was reenacting with Madam Giselle's...employee, Angelique, when we arrived."

"The kitchen table?" Kingsley took a moment to consider if he'd ever used that table. Happily, he had not.

"Yes, sir. When he left, he made her promise to keep him apprised of her whereabouts, and to let him know when she would be in the field. He told me that he wanted to protect her, if he could. She acquiesced, and-"

"And he became the source of the information we received from her on Death Eater activities. Am I correct?"

"Precisely. You mean she never even told you where the data was coming from?"

"She was adamant that we never try to ascertain her informant's identity after what was provided proved sound. Why did he not mention his assistance when he was on trial?"

"He didn't want Death Eaters or Voldemort sympathizers targeting Hermione any more than they already would for being part of the Golden Trio. I believe he also feared her own side would punish her. He did his best to be extremely careful. Mione said he wouldn't even look at her when she was at the Wizengamot. It hurt her deeply; she assumed he must not have cared after all, and she was likely too ashamed to speak up.

Now we get to the ugly part." Harry looked down at his lap for several long moments, seeming to fold in upon himself. He had to be prodded by his superior to continue.

"Kingsley, we've all noticed the change in Hermione post-War. Everyone assumed it was regular battle stress, or perhaps the torture inflicted by Bellatrix LeStrange. And we would be lucky if that was the problem. I interviewed Hermione yesterday."

"How was she?" Concern shone in Shacklebolt's somber eyes. Hermione's acting out at the Ministry had not dampened his affection for the witch.

"Bitter, broken, furious. Yesterday she informed me that her liaison with Draco had resulted in her pregnancy."

"No child was born, to the best of my knowledge."

"No sir. When Mione began getting Death Eater information from Malfoy, she decided to make the most of it for our side. If you remember, she made us take her on the bad trips. She knew she was expecting." The Hero of the Wizarding World's voice broke at the last part of the sentence, and he looked at Kingsley pleadingly.

"Go on, Harry. Finish it." Shacklebolt's voice was firm, but not unkind.

"The final raid. Right before the Last Battle. She jumped in front of me to take a curse, and it killed the baby. She knew that would happen, and she chose me anyway. The guilt is eating her alive, and she sort of hates me these days, if I understood her correctly."

"Sweet Circe. I had no idea. She gave so much to the War effort, but this..."

"Don't feel badly. Even those of us who were supposed to be close to her didn't know. Now, I can't tell anyone other than you, and she wants nothing to do with me. I don't know how to help her."

"How did she feel about Draco Malfoy?"

"She said she fell in love with him. I got the impression she may still have feelings."

"Draco's emotions are obvious, after what you've told me. I can see only one way to possibly assist."

"Sir?"

"Visit Draco. Do not, under any circumstances, mention the pregnancy. Convince him to go to her. It's likely that he will be the only person with a chance of fixing this."

Harry nodded, resigned. "Very good, sir." He was at the office door when Kingsley spoke again.

"Oh - and Harry?"

"Hm?"

"Burn the file."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer - not mine

_Malfoy:_

_The investigation's winding down. We need to speak privately. I will meet you at the Manor if you provide a date and time. _

_HP_

Draco promptly replied to the message he'd taken off the Ministry's owl, finding that he both anticipated and dreaded Potter's visit.

_Potter - _

_No time like the present. I'll be in the East Wing Study. Second Floor. _

_DM_

Harry nodded to himself as he read Malfoy's reply, thinking how odd it was that he would now prefer to talk to Draco instead of Hermione. Absently, he wondered if Hell was feeling a bit drafty at the moment.

"Ron, I have to meet with Malfoy. Not sure how long it will take."

"Lucky you, more time with the git," scoffed his partner. "I'm actually glad I had the B510 instead."

Harry stopped and took a good look at his friend. "Everything closed with that case now?"

"Well, yeah. Though I kind of asked Luna to dinner." Blushing furiously, Ron suddenly found the top of his desk fascinating.

"Really? That's new. If you get lucky, I promise not to tease you about bestiality." Thank Merlin his reflexes were quick enough to dodge the shoe thrown at him as he went out the door. He grinned to himself. He'd save the Nargle jokes for later.

_DMHG_

Out of politeness, Harry Apparated to the front of Malfoy Manor, and rang the bell like any guest. A house elf happily took him to Master Malfoy.

Draco sat in front of the fireplace in an overstuffed, distressed-looking chair. A small glass of Firewhiskey was in his left hand, and he shook it gently back and forth as he watched the fire. He stood up and shook hands with his old rival, both of them marveling at the oddness of it all.

"Have a seat, Potter. Would you like a glass?" Malfoy held up the one he was holding.

"Got anything larger than that?"

His host raised an eyebrow. "It's going to be one of _those_ conversations , eh? Kind of figured. Wait one." He snapped his fingers, and ordered two tall glasses of Firewhiskey, as well as some snacks.

Turning back to his guest, Malfoy stated matter-of-factly, "Can't have you going home pissed." He resumed his post near the fire, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles. "So: you said the investigation is ending. Have you spoken with her?"

"Yes, and that's why I'm here."

Draco had the odd sensation of their roles being reversed as he strove to pull more information out of the Auror. "Well? How was she? Did she say anything of...importance?" He did his best to keep his body language from betraying his anxiety.

Harry nodded, and held up a hand. "I can't tell you everything she said. It isn't my place, but- what? what are you laughing at?"

"Something isn't your place? Are you sure you're Harry Potter?" There was no cruelty behind the taunt, and it served to break the tension.

Smirking, Harry replied, "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted (Malfoy looked smug), I am not at liberty to discuss the details of what she said. However, I can give you my impressions of how she's doing. And I'm going to ask a favor from you."

The smugness quickly transformed into a serious expression. "If the favor concerns her, you know I'll do it."

"Yes. The most important thing I can tell you is that I now know what caused her current state. While I can't disclose what it is, I will tell you what it isn't: it isn't regular battle fatigue, or what happened to her here, with your aunt."

"If it's neither of those and you're sitting in my study, I can only surmise the issue concerns me?" The Pureblood's face held fear, then faint hope.

"Correct. And Malfoy, she's in a bad way. Much worse than anyone realized. We're hoping you can get through to her, and salvage whatever is left. Frankly, I'm not sure there's much. I have to warn you that anger is a huge factor in this situation. At this point, I'm fairly certain she isn't speaking to me. "

"I've heard reports of her being hostile and antisocial."

"I hate to say this, but after what I saw and heard, I'm amazed she isn't dead."

Draco looked distraught at the last, and set his drink on the table. "Any other information you're allowed to share?"

"I'm almost certain she still loves you. Though she didn't understand your behavior at your trial, or since. You won't have an easy time of it."

"I'm not worried about 'easy,' Potter. Just as long as 'possible' is on the table. I certainly understand anger issues. She can't be any more fucked up than I am."

"Talk to her, Draco, and see if you can still say that. I wish you luck. You know how to reach me if necessary."

Both men rose, and Draco showed his guest to the door.

"When will you go to her?"

"How soon can you leave?"


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: It's all JKR's.

A/N: Here we go - Draco & Hermione. It's funny - I had it laid out in my head - knockdown, drag-out brawl. They went in a different direction. Not sure if I'll continue after this chapter, or end it here.

_DMHG_

_**Knock knock knock**_

Hermione lifted her head and looked at the front door blearily. She was currently drained of energy, and void of the will to do anything. Her magic had thoroughly trashed the apartment when Harry left; what else was it to do while she was processing everything he told her? For the first time in years, she was feeling, and she wasn't sure she would survive the intensity of it. Pain, guilt, loneliness, envy. Rage. So much fucking rage. At Voldemort, at herself, at Draco, at Harry...

Oh, yes. Most definitely at Harry. The Chosen One. The Saviour. The stupid, lazy, immature son of a bitch who wouldn't have been able to find his arse with a map if she hadn't helped him. The one for whom everyone made allowances and sacrifices while they nattered on about the greater good. It sickened her. She'd given up her childhood and her parents for his cause. She, the Mudblood who wasn't even supposed to _be_ in the magical world, had to work like one of her beloved house elves to make sure Mr. Wonderful didn't get himself killed through sheer ignorance. And for what?

At this point, she didn't know who she despised more; Harry or herself. It was close.

_**Knock knock knock**_

Shit. Whoever wanted to bother her was still out there. Maybe if she stayed quiet, they would go away.

She shrugged to herself, and settled back in the chair.

_**Knock knock "REDUCTO!"**_

She'd know that roar anywhere. Rather than reacting, she stayed where she was, blinking dully at the now-open doorway, and the man filling it.

"Always did know how to make an entrance, didn't you?" she asked acidly, "I suppose this is a better one than when you showed up at the Manse. At least the carpet won't need a cleaning spell this time. Let me guess: Harry sent you."

Draco lazily conjured a replacement for the door, then made a show of brushing the dust off his robes while he assessed her. Potter was right, it was difficult to reconcile the person sitting before him with the image he carried in his mind. She was even leaner than he remembered, and she'd always been a tiny thing. Her skin had lost its glow, and she looked vaguely jaundiced from all of the time spent indoors. Her mouth was pinched, and she was getting lines from the constant frowning. The hair that he'd loved to tease her about laid limply.

The worst thing, however, was her eyes. The intelligence, the spark, the spunk that made her Granger was gone. Her fire was out. Though they blinked, he felt he was looking at the eyes of a corpse.

"I'd say you look well, but we both know I'd be lying. You look like hell, Granger." He took a seat on her couch.

"You walk out of my life, and when you suddenly decide to grace me again with your presence, it's to tell me I look bad?" She cocked her head to the side, "why are you here, Malfoy?"

"I was in the neighborhood?"

She glared at him.

"I just happened to be worried."

"Fuck you."

"Fine. Potter told me about seeing you the other day. His description of your current state didn't do you justice."

"Don't do me any favors. You can go now."

"I'm not doing you a favor by coming here. I was doing you a favor by keeping away!"

"How would you know if that was a favor to me? It never occurred to you to ask!"

"Miserable harpy!"

"Cold, heartless, irresponsible bastard!"

Malfoy shocked her by smirking, "Good to know we still understand each other." She shocked herself by allowing a small laugh. The anger and pain were still there, still strong, but they were having to make room for other emotions that she didn't want to consider. He had that effect on her, the prick.

"You left me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I needed you."

"You didn't. I wasn't any good to anyone at that time. It was safer for you if I kept my distance."

"And you're good for me now?"

"I didn't think so. Potter believed otherwise, but he won't tell me why."

"What _did_ he tell you?"

"That neither the War nor my crazed aunt broke you."

She nodded slightly. "That's fair. I'm no good for anyone."

"I find that I don't care about your goodness, or lack thereof. "

"You say that now. I could tell you things that would polarize your opinion." She looked down, and bit her lip so hard, it bled. She didn't notice.

"Really, Granger? Something as serious as murdering innocents during the War? I was forced to kill muggles for Voldemort's entertainment. I highly doubt what's got you upset is in the same league. For good measure, let's add the fact that you believe I abandoned you."

She barked a short, harsh laugh. "Don't forget the prostitutes made to resemble me. Hearing about that was a mindfuck. Actually, our sins are very similar. I just went for quality over quantity, I guess."

"Who did you kill?"

She turned away from him. He left the couch and leaned over her chair, effectively trapping her with his arms. If he had to get in her face to help her, so be it. He could take whatever she shot at him.

"You can't be like this. This isn't Hermione Granger."

She went deathly still, and looked him in the eye. "The Hermione Granger you knew died on that final raid. Right along with our child."

He'd thought he was ready to handle whatever she sent his way? Holy shit, was he wrong. Draco fell back against the wall, feeling like he'd been hit in the heart and the sack at the same time. He couldn't catch his breath, and slid slowly to the floor.

"Child?"

"It was early, obviously. I'd noticed symptoms, and performed the charm. It was a son. I did what I had to do to help the Order win the War. I took a curse for Harry. The baby didn't survive." She watched him dispassionately as she laid the facts in front of him.

"So...how do you feel about my goodness now?"

Hogwarts had advised never to tickle a sleeping dragon. It was even worse to break a dragon's heart.

She didn't think she was capable of sympathy, but she found herself sitting next to him. It felt like time stopped when he finally looked up at her. She'd seen so many emotions in his eyes before: fury, disgust, sadness, amusement, fear, hatred, love.

She'd never seen this.

His hands shot out and grabbed her shoulders so quickly, she barely saw him move. And then he kissed her. The kiss wasn't love, or even lust. It was punishment. It was accusation, and anger and hate. His lips assaulted hers brutally, demanding that she open up to him. She did, and found herself overwhelmed, drowning in the emotions he poured into her. She clung to him, urging him on with her hands and her lips.

_Take me. Take all of me, and do as you will. I love you, I hate you, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _

"I'm sorry."

He didn't respond.

She placed heated, frantic kisses on him anywhere she could reach as he moved from her lips to her neck. Draco pulled back from her, and she saw the look again, coupled with what might have been pleading. She nodded.

He pushed her back onto the floor amidst the debris, covering her and holding her down. Her blouse was ripped open, buttons flying every which way as she helped to remove his jumper. He didn't bother taking her skirt off, merely shoved it to her waist. Her panties were pulled down her legs so quickly, she noticed later that her thighs felt slightly chafed. She unzipped his trousers, and he pushed them down.

There was no tender foreplay. He touched her enough to know that she was wet, then rammed himself into her roughly. She felt his bollocks slap her arse on the first thrust, and bit back a scream as the pain rapidly turned to pleasure. Draco pulled her legs up, and went even deeper, fucking her so hard she wondered if he'd put her through the floor.

It was raw and dirty and glorious.

Between the frantic pace and the amount of time since they were last together, she came quickly, screaming his name to the gods. He lowered her legs, bringing his upper body back into contact with hers. His lips were next to her ear. She thought he'd been saying her name until she listened more carefully.

"Mine, mine, mine," over and over again, like a mantra, or his own private prayer. His hips jerked erratically. She felt spurts of heat inside her, and warm drops on her neck. Draco's head was buried in the curve between her ear and her shoulder, and his whole back was shaking. She gently traced the scars she found there and held him while he cried.

She understood instinctively that this was the only way he could fully express his reaction to the loss. Screaming wouldn't have been enough, and he didn't want to kill her, regardless of how upset he was. There would be time to put feelings into words later.

He whispered something , and she had to strain to hear it: "te absolvo."

Then it was his turn to hold, and hers to sob.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer - not mine, or Ron would've been kidnapped by Hinkypunks, never to be heard from again.

A/N: So I thought it would be cool to end this story on an uncertain, more "realistic" note. Have since been corrected most vociferously. :) We'll see where this goes, then.

I like to think that Hermione and Draco would want to make up for lost time, and start getting used to each other again. Upset or not, there's love, and it's taking precedence. There was enough angst in the last chapter.

As always, thanks again for the reviews, follows and favorites. They're much appreciated!

_DMHG_

"I won't leave you again."

She lifted her head to look him in the eye. "Who says I want you back?"

"Who says you have a choice?"

"I could always _Avada_ you."

"Brilliant idea. Just imagine being haunted by an angry Malfoy for the rest of your life, and possibly beyond. Take a moment; I'll wait."

Hermione could feel waves of pompousness rolling off of the idiot. _Her_ idiot. She sighed, and dropped her head back to his chest. They remained that way for some time.

"You said 'te absolvo.' How can you forgive me so easily?"

"Do you know the one thing Malfoys are, more than anything?"

"Arseholes?"

He rolled his eyes. "Survivors. Had you handled things any differently, Potter likely would have lost. Neither you nor that child would have existed in the new world. I know you wouldn't lose a baby for malicious or selfish reasons. Therefore, I can forgive. Not saying it's easy, though. I reserve the right to brood as necessary."

"I'm surprised that finding out hurt you so much. It isn't like you wanted a child at that time."

"And you did?"

"Well no, but I knew it - _he _- was growing inside of me, and he was part of you. He was confirmation that I hadn't dreamt it all."

"There you go." He stroked her hair absentmindedly until his fingers caught in a snarl.

"When's the last time you took proper care of your hair, woman? Were you trying to transform this mess into a haven for bats?"

"Shut up. It was better before I was ravished on the floor. It's just sex hair."

"No, it isn't. This is considerably worse. I'm half-expecting it to leave your head and go off to demolish a village. It looks about two steps away from eating cats and small children."

"Is that the best you can do?"

"I saw movement! Swear to Merlin, a squirrel just poked its head out."

He felt her shaking against his side, and turned his head to see her better. Laughter, not tears. OK.

A few minutes later, her giggles had subsided. "I still hate you for leaving."

"Fair enough." _So do I._

He went back to stroking her mane in silence, thinking. "Get up. C'mon, Granger - off the floor." He moved her away from him gently, and stood.

The blonde held out his hand, and she grasped it, letting him pull her to her feet. "What are you on about, Malfoy?"

"Where's your bathroom?"

"Down the hall, second door on the right."

He was pleased to find that the room boasted a large garden tub. "Sit."

"If you ask me to roll over or fetch, you'll lose your bollocks."

"At least I wouldn't be asking you to play dead," he said archly. He turned the taps on the tub, running a bath. There were several oils nearby, and he poured in a lavender/chamomile mixture. They could both use some soothing.

"Be nice, or I'll unleash the Evil Hair Monster on you."

"Malfoys don't do 'nice.' As for the Evil Hair Monster, big deal. I had to look at it daily at Hogwarts, and survived. I wasn't sure you weren't a yeti until Fourth Year, at the ball."

She merely smirked in response, running her fingers across the top of the water. The tub was nearly full. Somehow he'd gotten it just the right temperature. He stepped in first, sat down, and held out his arms. She entered the water and turned, sitting in between his legs.

To her surprise, He took a cup from the ledge, and began to rinse her hair. "What are you up to? I thought you said Malfoys didn't do 'nice.'"

"They don't. I assure you, I'm only taming this beast out of self-preservation. Lean forward and close your eyes."

He continued to rinse her hair, then moved on to shampooing it, working out the tangles as he went. She felt superbly relaxed when he finished, until his massaging hands moved a bit lower. One gently tweaked a nipple while the other...

"Oh!"

"Spread your legs just a bit - there's a love." He began lightly kissing the side of her neck, as she felt his length hardening against her back.

Her legs separated as if they had a mind of their own, and he chuckled softly. The assault on her neck grew fierce as he rubbed her clit with increasing pressure, quickly settling into a rhythm. There was no denying the man had talented fingers; her hips were moving against his hand, and she began moaning in earnest when two of those long, wonderful digits slowly went inside of her, stroking her into an orgasm so powerful, she forgot everything and focused solely on the joy singing through her.

"That was most definitely nice, Draco."

"Turn 'round and come here. Kneel up." His silken tone was overtaken by the roughness of arousal. Did she even have any idea what she did to him?

She complied, and he moved himself to her opening. She slid down at her own pace, delighting at the tortured hiss that escaped her lover as more of him was enveloped in slick heat.

"Gods, you're tight."

"It's not like I've been doing much since you. I dated Ronald briefly, but-"

"PLEASE. I forbid you to mention anything about the Weasel during shagging." He mock-shuddered and gave her his best horrified look. She smiled innocently.

"Not even to tell you that you're incredible in bed, and so much better than Weasley?"

"Hm. That may be tolerable. And just for the record, we haven't been in bed."

"Yet."

His pupils dilated at the thought, and he looked positively feral. His hands went to her hips. She arched her back as his lips found her nipple, sucking then nipping it. He let her move at a torturously slow pace until she was panting again.

Hermione cradled his face in her hands, moving him away from her breasts. She noticed his pained expression, and rewarded his patience by moving faster, her muscles squeezing him. He flushed beautifully as his body responded. The need in his eyes was breathtaking.

She leaned forward and touched her lips to his. He immediately deepened the kiss, bringing one hand up behind her head to move her as he wished. She moaned into his mouth, then pulled away to cry out as intense pleasure burned through her. That was the push he needed to tumble over the edge. She watched him as he came, thinking she had never seen anything more gorgeous.

"I bet none of your faux Hermiones were like that."

"Sorry, I won't take that bet."

"Why not?"

"I only bet on things I can win." He gave her a full-blown grin. Circe, he was stunning when he smiled. "You're right," he said kissing her nose, "none of them were even close. Though on the upside, they-"

"Quit while you're ahead, loverboy. There is no way anything good can come from you finishing that sentence."

He conceded, and hugged her to him tightly.

A short time later, he slipped from her body, and she felt the inevitable deluge. "Great. Now we need another bath."

"At least your hair survived this round."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer - I own nothing. Though a super-sized Tom Felton would be lovely.

Hermione and Draco spent the night as they had much of the day, ending the evening in bed. "Fell asleep" wouldn't begin to cover the exhausted lather into which the pair worked themselves. Malfoy estimated they had stopped somewhere between "pass out" and "drop dead."

Not that either of them had complained. Draco did, however, find the bed to be overrated; their original rendezvous was still his favorite.

Which reminded him: he needed to investigate her kitchen further.

Like he'd told Potter before, no time like the present. He had to pee, anyway. The blonde gently disengaged himself from the girl sleeping curled around him, and he smiled at her drowsy protestation. As he pulled away, she rolled onto her stomach with a decided "humph." He wondered whether Granger had always been grumpy in the morning, or if that was an aftereffect of the War. Potter's words about things not being easy came back to Draco, and he grinned: it certainly seemed that more than "possible" was on the table.

Great - all these thoughts about tables had aroused him. How was he supposed to pee, now? He tried to reason with his prick. It remained steadfast, so he threatened it with images of Umbridge in lingerie. When that didn't have the desired effect fast enough, he switched to Snape in a corset, complete with garters and jump-me pumps.

Yep. Worked every time. In fact, he almost had to coax his member out of hiding after that visual. He had a long, satisfying piss, washed his hands, and strolled to the kitchen. This would never do. Granger had a small kitchenette set with a flimsy table, and two chairs. Sadly, her kitchen was not spacious enough to support transfiguring the set into something more appropriate.

He was in the middle of wondering how long it would take to convince her to move elsewhere when he registered a tapping at the window, and he hastened to let in what appeared to be another Ministry owl. Draco gave it a couple of peanuts he found in a dish, and the bird sneered at him before hooting disgustedly, flying away without awaiting a response.

_Malfoy:_

_I need to see you immediately. Hide Hermione's morning paper, and come to the Aurors' Headquarters as soon as you receive this. Do __not__ mention anything about this to Hermione (yes, I know you spent the night there. If you're reading this, she didn't kill you, and we'll call that a win)._

_HP_

Draco smirked at the last sentence, then his brow furrowed as he ran through different scenarios that could have prompted the missive. Granger had stopped delivery of the paper some time ago. He rushed through a shower, and left a note for her. It wouldn't do to have her think he'd left her again.

_Yeti:_

_Urgent owl came in while you were sleeping. Some idiot created a situation, and I was called in to assist. Will return soonest._

_I love you. Evil hair and all._

_D_

Malfoy stepped outside the apartment and promptly apparated to Potter's office. The Boy Wonder looked up from his desk and waved away an insect before motioning the newcomer toward a private room.

"Is it safe to assume you didn't call me here for a blow-by-blow description of how things went?" He raised what Potter took to be a playful eyebrow.

"Ugh. Don't even use terms involving blowing when talking about Mione, Malfoy. I wasn't wild about my breakfast, and really don't wish to see it again."

Draco noted that Harry looked pale, and extremely concerned as the auror placed a copy of The Daily Prophet into the Pureblood's hands.

"Check it out. Front page, above the fold."

_MALFOY HEIR IN SECRET WARTIME ROMANCE WITH GOLDEN TRIO HEROINE HERMIONE GRANGER!_

_By Rita Skeeter_

_The Daily Prophet has been given incontrovertible evidence that during the Second Wizarding War, Draco Malfoy, CEO of Malfoy Industries and heir to the family fortune, was involved in a torrid affair with the Wizarding World's so-called Sweetheart, Hermione Granger. Regardless of the fact that Mr. Malfoy was, in fact, a Death Eater at the time this took place, a well-placed source says that love bloomed and may exist to this very day. It is beyond this reporter why a desirable bachelor like Mr. Malfoy would bother with a plain witch like Ms. Granger, but she does have a habit of being linked to high-profile men. Memories have been reviewed and, frankly, are inappropriate to detail in a family paper..._

The "desirable bachelor" groaned and crushed the paper in his hands.

"How, in the name of Merlin's saggy ball sack, did the Daily fucking Prophet get hold of that information?"

"If you didn't share it, the only thing I can surmise is that Madam Giselle or one of her girls leaked the story. I know she was angry about her necklace being confiscated."

"Granger's going to go mental. You might want to make sure she doesn't get anywhere near the Prophet's offices. Can you station an auror there?"

"I wish. Right now, I don't have probable cause. Can you keep an eye on her for the time being? I don't even know how to break the story to her."

The duo returned from the interview room, and headed for Harry's desk. The insect buzzed again, and Draco narrowed his eyes for a split second before swatting and squashing it with the newspaper he still clutched.

Immediately, the beetle's body lightened, lengthened, and became the corpse of his least-favorite reporter.

He gazed stoically at the body of Rita Skeeter, with an off-handed "Oops."

Harry gave him a long look, then shrugged, and _Evanescoed_ the evidence. "You spent some time around Skeeter at Hogwarts, didn't you Malfoy?"

"Yes, but that was so long ago," came the lofty reply. "Of course I had no idea that bug was anything out of the ordinary."

"Of course." Harry gave him a smirk worthy of any Slytherin, and for the first time, Draco entertained a private thought of making the former Gryffindor an Honorary Snake. The bloke had potential.

Worried green eyes gazed into his. "So... are you going to tell Hermione? I would advise against letting her find out inadvertently."

"Well, we're talking about the future - don't look at me like that Potter, things are far from settled. I'll likely downplay it as we would have to go public sooner or later, anyway."

"Word of advice?"

"I live for the pearls of wisdom that drop from your lips, O Great Bespectacled Wanker."

"Tell her about the accidental squashing of that bug."

"Good thinking. I'll send you an update later."

"That's fine. I'll owl Kingsley. He's likely added two and two anyway."

The wizards nodded at each other, and Draco apparated back to Granger's.

Shortly after Malfoy's departure, a whirlwind tore through the office, ranting about papers and ferrets and how-could-she's!

Harry sighed. "Ron, have a seat, mate. Please."

"You've seen this, then? How is it you're all right with this, Harry? This story's saying she was involved or in love or, or...I don't even want to _think_ about what else she might have been with that son of a bitch."

"Oi - you can call Malferret a lot of things, but leave his mum out of it. She saved my life, if you remember. Just go with greasy git, or bastard. There's no shortage of insults."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You didn't answer my questions." In the absence of food, Ron's focus was quite sharp.

"Yes, I knew. Happy? That's largely what the investigation was about."

"So this is true, then? Is this why she and I couldn't make it work?"

"It's part of it. Ron, the rest is classified, and Mione would have to tell you herself. I wouldn't go poking that hornet's nest if I was you."

"Does she," Ron pulled a face, "does she love him?"

"Yes."

"He loves her?" The ginger looked skeptical.

"Very much, in his Malfoyish way."

"Does he make her happy?"

"I think he's making her the closest she's been in years."

The junior auror took a deep breath, "OK, then. OK. Can't say I'm pleased with her choice, or that I understand it, but if she's happy...OK."

"Good for you, Ron." Harry's eyes took on a sly cast, "and how was dinner with Luna?"

Ron smiled.

_DMHG_

At the same time all of this was happening at the aurors' offices, a guard in Azkaban was more than happy to take a copy of the paper to his least favorite prisoner.

"Thought you'd be interested. Progressive of your son, putting aside blood prejudice. You must be _so_ proud, Lucius."

A filthy hand reached through the bars to take the periodical, and a distinct scowl crossed Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic features.

"Those dolts. Should have finished the job. The fools couldn't do anything right."

"What was that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Nothing, I assure you. I said nothing." Like a malevolent specter, the Malfoy patriarch faded into the shadows of his cell.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: It's all JKR's. If it was mine, I'd have bought my own private island already.

Hermione was conscious and mobile when Draco returned to her apartment. He was amused to note that the Evil Hair Monster had reappeared, and even more tickled by her reaction when he brought it to her attention. In her displeasure, she told him to go fuck himself, and he replied that if he could do a decent job of it, what would he need her for?

The shoe aimed at his head reminded him that she was definitely not a morning person. Technically, neither was Draco, but he felt he could summon the energy from deep within if it provided him an opportunity to torture her. It was done out of love, of course.

As Malfoy was not a complete moron, he waited until his pocket-sized Amazon finished her coffee before he told her about his morning.

Actually, he waited until she brought it up, and dragged the story out of him, bit by bit.

"Potter sent the owl, asking to meet immediately."

"Are you telling me Harry was the idiot who created the problem?"

"Nope, just the idiot that brought it to my attention. You aren't going to like this, love."

He could see her bracing herself as she took a deep breath, held it for the count of five, and exhaled noisily. "Spit it out."

"Rita Skeeter did a piece about our wartime...relationship for the Daily Prophet. It appears either Madam Giselle or one of the faux Hermiones sold me out, and took my memories to the paper, so it's not like we can demand a retraction. There was one of the bitch's typical hatchet jobs right on the front page. Potter didn't want us caught unaware."

"SHE _WHAT?_ Ugh!" His lioness screamed in frustration. "I'll sue her. Hell, I'll sue the whole paper for this!" She made to rise, intending to get dressed and storm the Prophet's offices.

Draco caught her by the wrist, and pulled her to him gently. "By all means. I'll be happy to offer my solicitor's services. After all the practice he's had defending the Malfoy name, he's quite well-versed in defamation suits." Draco paused thoughtfully for a moment, then looked over at Hermione. "Ever wonder what happens if you kill an Animagus in their animal form?"

Granger glared at the change of topic, but her scholarly mind couldn't leave the question unanswered. "There really isn't any data for that."

"Would you like the answer?"

Her jaw dropped, and she whispered, "Draco, what did you do?"

"It was the oddest thing, Granger. When I went to see Potter, this bug kept buzzing around. It made quite a pest of itself not only when I arrived, but after Potter showed me the article, it was like the blasted thing was making a point of getting in my face. So I squashed it. Imagine my surprise when the corpse changed forms." Though his tone was casual, his silver eyes held a cold gleam, daring her to make the connection.

"Really? Changed form? How very strange. What happened then?" She'd figured him out, and was playing along.

"Well, Potter and I were just stunned, and he declared it an accident on the spot. After all, I couldn't possibly have had any idea the bug was unusual, and she _was_ trespassing. Potter got rid of the mess, and I came back here."

She looked at him for a second, then flung her arms around his neck, giving him one of the hottest kisses he'd ever felt in his life. When she pulled back to look him in the eyes, he saw honest-to-Merlin malice in her expression.

He half-seriously considered proposing on the spot.

"So, my dear Granger, while that article ran this morning, I don't foresee any more pieces like it. The question is how to deal with what's already out there?"

The Brightest Witch of Her Age thought for quite some time. "I have an idea, but I don't think you'll go for it."

"Shoot. After this morning, how much worse could it be?"

"I know a reporter at The Prophet. What say we agree to an exclusive interview, and spin this to our advantage?"

"Sounds good so far. What's not to like?"

"We detail how you secretly assisted the Light, and we get the article to focus on our happy reunion. If worded properly, it clears your name a bit and takes some of the tarnish off of the Malfoy family, and the story can play up my gentle and forgiving nature. I could use some good press after the way I behaved at the Ministry. Everyone loves a good love story, you know."

"Gentle and forgiving nature? Ow! Woman, quit smacking me. You're only proving my point."

"Think about it, Malfoy. Your father's in Azkaban, the Death Eaters are defunct, and your mother is on house arrest. It should be safe to come forward with the rest of the story."

"How much of the rest? What of our son?"

Her jaw clenched. "Our son is our business. That stays private."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Send your friend an owl. Speaking of owls, I'm confused why you haven't been inundated with post after this morning's edition."

"I have an anti-correspondence spell on my apartment, aside from a few exceptions. Rejected owls are forced to drop their messages at the Ministry, where an assistant sifts through them and forwards the important ones."

"That's a nifty piece of work."

She had the grace to blush. "Um, Kingsley deemed it necessary after some of my responses to unwanted post."

He smirked. "Gentle and forgiving, indeed."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: not mine

_True Love Conquers - Exclusive Interview with Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy!_

_By Caesar Hohll_

_This reporter recently had the pleasure of sitting and chatting with War Heroine Hermione Granger and __reformed__ Death Eater Draco Malfoy. The pair wished to respond to Rita Skeeter's recent story, and set the record straight._

_Affectionately entwined on an opulent sofa in Mr. Malfoy's luxurious flat, the once-star-crossed couple had several revelations to share:_

_It is true that they fell in love during the War. Ms. Granger put herself at great personal risk and nursed the injured Malfoy heir back to health, shielding him from persecution. As a result of being in such close proximity to a member of the Light, Mr. Malfoy realized the error of his ways. This change of heart prompted him to decide to provide vital information to the Order of the Phoenix. Out of concern for his beloved's well-being, Mr. Malfoy elected not to disclose his defection during his trial, and he received a heavier sentence as a consequence. Now that the Death Eaters are but a dark chapter in our history, he has deemed it safe to come forward. You read it here first, folks!_

_While it has taken them a few years to find their way back to each other, neither has been idle. Mr. Malfoy was named the CEO of Malfoy Industries and he has made a point of balancing philanthropic activities with business. Most recently, Malfoy Industries donated the funds for a Children's Wing to St. Mungo's, and assisted in the construction of a shelter for homeless War veterans. Ms. Granger has been steadily employed as a magical researcher for the Law Enforcement Department at the Ministry of Magic, where her outstanding work ethic and attention to detail have allowed her department to drastically increase its case closure rate. _

_When asked why it took so long for them to reunite, Mr. Malfoy humbly explained that given his past, he feared he was not good enough for a beautiful, talented, kind witch like Ms. Granger. The lady in question blushed deeply at this statement, and stated demurely that she is overjoyed by his return. Regarding the rumors that Mr. Malfoy kept unconventional company during their separation, he said the witches in question were mere surrogates for his love, and that he and Ms. Granger have reached an understanding. They would appreciate respect for their privacy on this matter. _

_A wedding date has not been set at this time, but I came away with the impression that it __will__ happen, eventually. Such an event would be the social highlight of the season! Please join me in congratulating Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy on their happiness, and wishing them all the best in the future. They certainly deserve it._

_Ms. Skeeter could not be reached for comment._

Harry grinned as he finished the article. Caesar had laid it on with a trowel. "Ms. Skeeter could not be reached for comment" - he doubted anyone tried very hard to contact her. The reporter had been missing for several days by this time, and no one had come forward to report her absence, or to request an investigation. It was too bad he couldn't nominate Malfoy for a medal for civic improvement. Perhaps he could have the newspaper Malfoy used bronzed, and send it to him...

Potter was startled out of his reverie minutes later when Kingsley's owl swooped into the office and landed on his desk, holding its leg out for him to remove a message.

_Harry-_

_Due to a tip from a credible informant, Madam Giselle's was raided last night. Numerous objects of Dark and/or questionable origin were found, and the entire establishment has been closed indefinitely. The Madam herself is in custody, awaiting trial. _

_Incidentally, she also has been charged with the following: utilization of underage witches, operating without proper license, zone violations, building code violations sections 9 through 234, health code violations, extortion, illegal gambling on her business' premises, assault (she slapped an Auror), lewd and lascivious conduct, and abuse of a Hippogriff (don't ask). The prosecutor in this case has stated that he will not entertain a plea bargain, so I do not believe that the Giselle or any of her employees will pose a problem any longer. Something was said about the good Madam being older than Dumbledore by the time she is released._

_I do not know if you have seen the Daily Prophet yet today. If you have not, I recommend you make a point of doing so. There is an interesting article on the front page. _

_Regards,_

_K. Shacklebolt_

For the millionth time, Harry thought how glad he was to be in Kingsley's good books.

The Auror set his boss' note aside, and went to retrieve his lunch. Overall, this had shaped up to be a lovely day. When he returned, he found his wife in his seat.

"Have you seen the paper this morning?" Her eyes shone with excitement, and he was glad to finally be able to discuss the situation with her. Sleeping on the couch was bloody awful.

"I have. Nice story, wasn't it?"

"Hermione and Malfoy? Who would've thought? Do you think she's really happy?"

"From what I've been able to observe, yeah. He's good for her in a weird way."

Harry, is this what you were working on recently?"

"It was. Sorry I couldn't give you the particulars, but I have to uphold confidentiality." _Please don't ask for details. So far, I'm not really lying to you..._

She stood up and embraced him. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch about this."

"It's all right. I knew what I was getting into when I married a ginger. Everyone knows they're temperamental."

"Oh everyone does, eh? Nice. Now would be a good time to shut up, Potter. I'll see you at home." She planted a sweet kiss on his lips.

"Yep, everyone does. And in my case, I know all about their good qualities too, thanks to you. I'll see you tonight, love."

Ginny apparated home and Harry sat down to enjoy his lunch thinking, so he spent a few nights on the couch. It was okay. Nothing beat make-up sex with a redhead.

Feeling a bit puckish, he decided to yank his new "friend's" chain a little, so he located a piece of parchment, and his owl:

_Dear Malfoy:_

_I saw the article in The Daily Prophet this morning. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. I am certain your bride-to-be must be beside herself with joy. Please do keep Ginny and me in mind when making out your wedding invitations. We would hate to miss your special day. I can't wait to see how one tailors a ferret-sized tuxedo._

_Warmest Regards,_

_H. Potter, Sr. Auror _

_p.s. - I have it on good authority that the bird that caused you so much trouble recently has been placed in a strong cage._

A short time later...

"Granger, you should see this."

"What the-? That bastard! And he sent this to YOU? The nerve of - why are you smiling like that?" It was obvious Malfoy was doing his best to restrain himself.

"I'm just wondering what's pissing you off more: that he wrote acting like we've already set a date, or that it was addressed to me. You're cute when you're apoplectic, you know."

"Oh, stuff it. It's likely a tie, with the letter being addressed to you maybe edging ahead slightly. Wait - what are you doing?"

"Responding, of course. It's only polite."

"Since when have you had a remote grasp of the concept of politeness?"

"Since it brings the added benefit of irritating my beloved."

_Dear Potter:_

_Thanks ever so for your message. Your concern is of the utmost importance to us. And yes, my intended is definitely beside herself at the moment. I can honestly say that you are certainly on our minds at this time, and I will be happy to keep you posted regarding the date, location, and whether it is safe for you to stick your bespectacled nose inside. Ferret or human, I will wear a tuxedo better than you ever could. Please give my sympathy to the Weaselette, as she is still putting up with you._

_Yours Truly,_

_D. Malfoy_

_CEO Malfoy Industries_

_P.S. - why not send that bird down a mineshaft, and let it be good for something?_

Below that, in a neat cursive:

_I suppose you think you're being funny, Harry. What are you doing, writing to Malfoy? The two of you are acting like you get along. Stop it - it's unsettling. _

_I guess at some point in the near future, you and I should sit down and talk._

_-HG_

_Shouldn't that be HGM, my love?_

_Shut UP, Malfoy!_

Reading this in his office, Harry found himself unable to wipe the grin off of his face. Yep, definitely a lovely day, indeed.

With that, he turned out the lights and apparated home. It was never good to keep a redhead waiting.


	14. Chapter 14

As always, JKR owns the characters, etc. I just came up with this plot.

After the gushing piece in the Daily Prophet, the assistants at the Ministry had been inundated with post ranging from warm congratulations to Howlers. The common consensus said that the red-letter sent by Pansy Parkinson had set a new record for decibel level, profanity and sheer entertainment value.

The kinder missives were forwarded to Granger's apartment, and the Howlers were evaluated for threat potential. If it was ascertained that there was something to worry about, the Auror Department was informed. This led to a few impromptu raids, and Potter's team had the lucky break of catching a couple of the remaining Death Eaters still at large.

All in all, the lovely day had turned into a pretty good week, by Harry's standards.

An owl flew in and perched on his desk. He made sure to locate a treat for it, and it moved off to the side, obviously awaiting a reply. The bird glared at him as he moved his papers away.

_Dear Potter:_

_Granger and I have been talking a lot about unhealed War wounds. I am certain you know what I mean. She would like for you to visit sometime this week to discuss them. I can be present or bugger off, depending on what will be best. _

_Let me know soon, please. I think she's making real progress. _

_DM_

Damn. "Please," and a marked lack of sarcasm? This must be serious. While Harry knew he needed to speak with his old friend and try to clear the air, he felt a sense of trepidation about it. Hermione had changed so much. It was glaringly obvious when he had interviewed her. He no longer felt that he could predict her actions, and that frightened him. Not that he thought she would seriously injure him. At least not physically, but she knew all of his sensitive spots, and he worried about an emotional attack.

After rereading the final sentence of Malfoy's first paragraph, he'd have thought it more likely to see Hagrid as Minister of Magic than to think the snotty blond's presence would ever be a comfort.

_Dear Malfoy:_

_It makes me very happy to hear that you believe that Hermione is doing better. I am available in the evening on Thursday, or anytime on Friday. Whatever works. I believe your presence could be an asset._

_HP_

"Damn," Malfoy swore softly to himself.

"What now, Draco? Was that a Ministry owl?" Hermione came up behind him and wrapped her arms about his midsection, peering around him to read the note.

"You're sure you're ready to see him again, Granger?"

"Yes. Just him. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but-"

"We'll stop at 'yes.'" He tapped her on the nose with Potter's response. "I'll tell him to be here on Friday at 3:00. He said he wants me to attend. What say you, woman?"

"I say Hell's frozen over. But yes, I'd like you to be here, as well. If for no other reason, to _Petrificus_ me if I really lose it on him."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Give yourself some credit, love. I doubt you'd do something so drastic."

"Did I ever tell you the plaid bollocks story?" She was pleased to see her boyfriend pale, and gulp visibly.

"Er, no. I don't recall hearing that one."

"Ask Ron about it the next time you see him," she grinned wickedly. "The memory of it still works on Ronald, and I'd bet money Harry's at least somewhat concerned."

"It's not nice to curse your friends, Granger. People will think you're a real-"

"Slytherin?"

"I was going to say bitch."

She shrugged. "Same thing."

He smirked as she wandered into the kitchen. "Oi, wench! Bring me a cuppa while you're in there."

"I didn't realize you were into poisoned tea. Honestly - not even a 'please' from you!"

"I said 'please' to Potter in my letter earlier. That meets my once-daily limit."

She returned from the kitchen with a soft drink and a bag of crisps, and was both amused and annoyed at how quickly Malfoy nicked each.

"You know, if you weren't such a good shag, I'd toss your arse out the door for your behavior."

"If I wasn't such a good shag, you'd have tossed me off the roof long ago, based on general principles." His eyes gleamed, and he set his (her) snack on the table. "However, as I _am_ such a good shag..."

"What?" She backed up quickly as he lunged out of his seat and made to pounce on her. He was gratified to note that since his return, she was regaining both her speed and her wits.

She led him on a merry chase around her flat that finally ended with her on one side of her kitchen table, and him on the other.

"You know, I've been meaning to talk to you about something..."

"Now? I didn't think you would distract that easily, Malfoy."

"Well, it's sort of related. I was examining your kitchen set the other morning, and it's lacking in size and quality. And your kitchen isn't big enough to accommodate a proper table."

"Talk about my furniture is related? Either you're slipping, or I'm losing my touch if you'd rather talk about my dinette set. Really, Draco - the table is both big and sturdy enough for dinner."

"Sadly, it fails to meet the requirements for _dessert_." His baritone had lowered to a sinful purr, and she colored as she realized just where his mind had gone.

All thoughts of running forgotten, she came 'round the table slowly, making sure her hips swayed lightly as she ran her fingers along the tabletop. "So it is. Perhaps we can discuss solutions later."

"Later?" A blond brow quirked.

"Definitely later. For the moment, I'm sure the bed will suffice."

He made a petulant moue at the thought, so she amended, "or the floor, or the tub, or wherever. Just..._now_, Draco!"

She didn't have to ask twice.

Two days later, at 3:00, a cautious knock was heard at the front door of the Granger flat.

"It's open!"

Harry stepped inside just in time to see Hermione coming forward from the back of the apartment. She made no move to hug him, and he didn't appear to expect one. They stood facing each other awkwardly as the front door opened a second time.

"Sorry I'm late- Diagon Alley was insane." Draco looked from his girlfriend to his...whatever Potter was.

"Well, sit down, Potter. You too, Granger. The two of you look like cats about to start hissing at one another. It's unseemly."

Like automatons, the two sat. Draco shook his head, and dropped his purchases in the kitchen, placing a stasis charm on them. It felt like a bad decision taking the time to put everything away just now. He returned to the living room with three butterbeers in hand, and silently doled them out.

"Are you two going to just sit there looking at each other gormlessly?"

"I'm not sure what to say, to be honest." Potter's body language spoke of an intense urge to flee. He sat straight up with his head drawn back to one side. For her part, Hermione was perched stiffly, almost completely still.

Draco sighed. Bloody Gryffindors could never make anything easy, could they? "Potter, she hates you. At least part of her does. Frankly, I'm pretty sure that part hates just about everyone, including Granger." He stopped and looked to her for confirmation or denial. She nodded just the slightest bit.

"We've been working on that part for the past few days. Like I explained to her, there's no reason for her to feel guilty about her choices. They were backed by sound logic. As for her hating you and Weasley, that's more because she feels she had to do and give so much to take care of the two of you."

Hurt flashed through Potter's green eyes as he took this in. Malfoy continued, "I've been reminding her that you and Weasley (or at least you) grew up enough to be self-sufficient, and that hating you for childhood shortcomings is pretty hypocritical if she can forgive me mine." Granger winced at this, but she didn't correct him.

"I'm sure you noticed there was no mention of our son in that article." Draco's face was stoic.

"I did. Figured you wanted to keep that part private. Just so you know, the case file was destroyed at Kingsley's order. He and I are the only people to know that detail outside of the two of you. I can look into being Obliviated if you-"

"_Don't. You. Dare_." The vehement hiss came from the brunette in front of him. Her lips were drawn back from her teeth as she glared at him. "Don't you even _think_ of forgetting about that, Harry James Potter. I want you to live with the knowledge of what I did for the rest of your life. I have to."

"I wasn't trying to forget to get myself off the hook, Mione. I thought you'd want as much privacy about it as possible."

She turned to Draco. "I can't see what good this is doing."

"What, you thought there would be one meeting and you would go back to being best friends again? Like I said earlier, Granger, you two were best friends for years, and you went through hell together. That's supposed to mean something, according to all of you damn do-gooders, isn't it? I wouldn't know much about it, as Slytherins usually have allies, cronies or lackeys. We do not have friends. Just say whatever you need to say to Potter. He's a big boy."

She turned back to Harry. "Fine. I fucking hate you. You don't know how many times I wished you could have died instead of my baby, even though your death would have spelled the end of the world. I hate that I had to make the decision that I did, and that I wasn't able to feel like I could trust any of you enough to go to you for comfort. Yet I was there to support _everybody._ It wasn't fair! You and Ron got to be macho and oblivious, and everyone fell all over themselves to make you happy. Poor Harry, he had to live in a broom closet as a child. Poor Harry - got the weight of the world on his shoulders. Goddamnit! What about me? I was always looked at as your researcher. I wasn't even your sidekick - that was Ron! I was better at spells and more knowledgeable, and all I heard about was your fucking sacrifices? And I had the weight of keeping you alive and out of trouble on MY shoulders. Have you ever truly appreciated that? I don't mean just saying "oh, I couldn't have done it without you." Have you ever really thought about what your search would have been like without me? And then after I make the worst choice of my life, you get to go on and marry your true love, and enjoy your lovely children. All in this little insulated bubble of happiness where you couldn't even see that I was dying inside!" She broke off with a sob, burying her face in her hands.

As badly as Draco wanted to comfort her at that moment, he refrained. He didn't want to intrude now that things were being said.

"I'm sorry, Mione. I know that apologizing doesn't mean dick to you right now. And you're right - when we were kids, I never could have gotten anywhere without your help. You kept me on the right path, and you protected me whenever you could. But you didn't tell me during the War that you were pregnant. Do you think I wouldn't have cared? That I would have been too busy judging you for having been with Malfoy? You know what? You're probably right about the judging part. I won't lie. But I never, never would have sent you into combat knowing you were with child! And after? It isn't like you let any of us in to help you, even though we fucking begged! You preferred to martyr yourself and mourn in silence, and blame us when we didn't even know what was wrong. You say that your supporting everyone wasn't fair? Well neither was your behavior! You've been nothing but a mean, miserable, sullen bitch for the past few years. You're right, I went on to marry Gin, and I have wonderful kids. But there's always been this dark cloud at the periphery, because I've known that something was wrong with you. You're James' godmother, for Christ's sake, yet you have nothing to do with him!" Harry was breathing heavily after this, and he looked at Hermione warily as her head shot up.

He observed her quietly. Her face was soaked with tears, eyes red and swollen. She shook uncontrollably, and his heart broke for her.

"Hermione, I don't know what to say or do to fix this. You've been my best friend since I was 11 years old. I love you. Having this distance feels like a part of me is missing." He was embarrassed to note wetness on his own face.

"I...part of me hates you, Harry, but another part of me loves you, too. I don't know exactly how to get past this either." She reached over, and tentatively took his hand.

"You don't get past it, love." They both turned in surprise to the man they had forgotten was in the room. "You get through it. It'll likely just take time, and you may find yourselves hating each other again on occasion. All you can do is talk it out, and wait.

I still think of the baby I just discovered you lost. And what it would have meant if you'd carried our child to term. As much as I love the thought of having had a baby with you then, I understand what you had to do, Granger. Quit blaming Potter. If you want to hate someone for all of this, hate Voldemort. Hate his loyal followers. But quit hating people on your own side. Try leading with your head on this one instead of your heart. I suspect it will make things easier."

Malfoy looked between the two of them. "Anything else either of you needs to say right now?"

Potter turned to him. "Thank you. She's right that I'd have been an absolute prick if I'd known about you two back then, but right now, I'm glad she has you."

Draco shot him a sarcastic smile. "Everyone should be so lucky as to have me gracing their lives."

His snarking broke the ice a bit, and Harry reached out for his old friend. "I know it's gonna be a long road, but I'll try if you will." She accepted the embrace, and gradually began to return it.

"I'll see you soon?" He spoke into her hair, loath to release her now that she was finally responding.

"Yes, Harry. Soon. But please, still just you. I'm not ready for everyone else yet."

"I understand completely. Oh, Malfoy. Got something for you."

"Really?" He drawled, "What does one get for the wizard who has everything?"

Harry pulled a small object out of his robes, and set it on the table, expanding it into that "special" issue of the Daily Prophet.

"Since I couldn't get you an official commendation for furthering peace in the Wizarding World, this will have to do."

Malfoy clapped Potter on the back playfully. "Got it bronzed, eh? Couldn't afford gold, I guess."

"You're welcome, prat. And thanks."

"You're welcome, too. Bastard." The men shared a smirk, and Harry turned to go.

"Potter - lunch soon?"

"Sure, as long as it's somewhere expensive, and you're paying."

"Piss off."

"I love you too, Drakie." He was gratified to see that the exchange made Hermione smile a bit, and he ducked outside feeling more hopeful than he had in years.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: JKR's characters. I receive nothing from this. :)

* * *

Several weeks had passed, and Hermione had progressed enough to add Ginny to the meetings with Harry. It was tough at first, but once Gin finally understood that she would likely never get the whole story, she learned to be happy with what Hermione was offering. Humor even snuck into their visits, primarily in the form of banter between Harry and Draco.

The two men had finally put aside any differences and acknowledged that they could enjoy each other's company without it meaning the world was ending (Ron begged to differ). When Hermione asked Draco what changed, he replied that a) Potter had led him back to her, and b) they shared a bond over the knowledge of Hermione's loss. He also was grateful to Potter for his discretion throughout the investigation. And Harry's handling of the Skeeter 'mishap?' How could Draco _not_ befriend him afterward? That was a man after his black little heart. Hermione rolled her eyes at this but said nothing. She was just glad they were getting along.

Potter and Malfoy fell into the routine of getting together once a week to discuss their impressions of the visits with Hermione, Quidditch, and whatever else came to mind. They made the mistake of meeting at a restaurant for lunch one day. Less than three minutes had passed before the pair was inundated with reporters. Harry was particularly amused by one of the headlines that ran shortly thereafter: _MALFOY HEIR MEETING WITH HERMIONE GRANGER'S BEST FRIEND TO REQUEST PERMISSION TO MARRY!_

Harry had been sure to bring a copy of the article with him when he met Malfoy at his home for dinner. This way they had privacy, and Malfoy's elves could serve up a five-star meal with ease.

"Did you see this yet? Got anything you want to ask me?" The former Boy Wonder gazed in a mock-serious fashion at the blond.

Malfoy made a great show of deliberation before coming up with, "Sure. Have you always been such a git?"

Potter grinned and sat down as Malfoy took the seat opposite. The pureblood shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe anyone thinks I'd need to ask your permission to marry Granger."

"Well, her parents are gone. If they thought that you only had to ask me, they have it wrong."

"What d'you mean, 'only?'"

"Not only do you need my blessing, you have to get an OK from every single Weasley, including Charlie in Romania. They're all quite fond of 'Mione, you know. She's been like family to them for years." Harry looked down at his plate to hide his expression.

"Every single Weasley? Are you kidding? I can't even count that high! There are enough of the blasted redheads to fill their own village! It could take forever to secure everyone's approval."

"Then I guess you better start soon, if you want to marry 'Mione this century, eh?"

"Guess I should. Right then." Malfoy took a deep breath. "Potter, I know I was a foul little pillock for years, but I love Granger, and I promise I'll be good to her and make her happy for as long as she'll have me." He grit his teeth as he went against ingrained Malfoy arrogance. "I would like to make Granger my wife, though Merlin knows I don't deserve her. May I," he sighed. "May I have your blessing?"

Harry was gobsmacked. He'd meant to take the piss out of Draco, and the last thing he expected was for Malferret to take it seriously. He smiled at the nervous Slytherin. "You've had my blessing since you came back into Hermione's life, and you got Gin's when 'Mione agreed to start seeing her again. We both think you're good for her." He leaned back and took a sip of water, while he watched Malfoy relax considerably.

Time to wind him back up.

"Congratulations. Just eight more Weasleys to go. Nine, if you count Aunt Muriel, but no one ever does."

"_Eight_?" The blond shot to his feet without realizing it.

"Eight: Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron. You've already got Gin's vote."

"Fred? Fred Weasley's dead!" The prospective bridegroom was practically pulling out his hair at this.

"Good luck planning the séance, then. Perhaps you can get Trelawney to help you." Harry burst out laughing as he saw comprehension dawn on Malfoy's face.

Draco returned to his seat and picked up his silverware. "Potter, you are a rat bastard of the highest order."

"Thank you. Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?"

"I believe it. If it hadn't been for Granger's being a Muggleborn, I'm certain she'd have worn green and silver at Hogwarts, too."

"In all honesty, are you planning on marrying my best friend?"

"As long as you mean Granger and not the ginger buffoon, yes."

"Good."

They ate in silence for a while before Harry spoke again: "you know if you're really serious about this, I have an idea."

"What?" Draco knew to be wary of Potter when he got that gleam in his eyes. He looked entirely too much like that meddlesome Dumbledore.

"How do you feel about going to The Burrow?"

"The Weasley lair?"

Harry smirked. "The same. Gin and I will go with you, if you wish. I can send a message to Arthur and Molly that we need to call a family meeting, and they'll even get Charlie to come."

"You're serious about my asking every Weasley."

"Well, even if you just get Arthur, Molly and Ron, those are the main three. If Ginny and I tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley how happy 'Mione is with you, you'll win them over as long as you aren't conceited. Just ask them like you asked me."

"And the Weasel King?" Draco looked apprehensive.

Potter shrugged. "He'll be tougher, but in the end I don't think he'll say no. He's been dating Luna Lovegood recently, so I think he's over any romantic attachment to Hermione. He'll just object on the grounds that it's you. We may even have to let him see you with 'Mione before he makes up his mind. One tip, though: stop calling him Weasel, Weasel King, Weaselbee...you get the idea."

"What the hell do I call him, then?"

"'Ron' would probably work."

Malfoy sighed. "All this just to marry Granger."

"You can always back out, if you wish."

Gray eyes looked at Harry so piercingly he felt nailed to his seat. "Bring 'em on."

* * *

A/N - Harry wasn't expecting that! Frankly, neither was I. But like I said before, we'll see where this goes...


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Characters are JKR's. Plot's mine.

A/N: OK, kids...Weasleys.

Hermione returned to her flat after having lunch at a local cafe with Ginny, just the two of them for the first time. Today certainly held its share of awkward moments, and it was obvious that the muggleborn witch was holding back. However, she was pleased to see that rather than the dynamic that existed between them at Hogwarts, she and Ginny were building a new, more mature friendship. When they were younger, the ginger would have badgered Hermione until she got whatever it was she wanted. Now there was more respect and tact between them.

As she passed through the living room, Hermione caught sight of Gin's favorite blue sweater. She'd worn it over when she flooed in for lunch. The meal had run longer than expected, and Ginny had Apparated away from the alley behind the cafe. She said she didn't want to be late picking up the kids from the Burrow.

Granger considered the garment lying over the back of her chair. _OK, Hermione. Consider the options: 1) I can tell Draco, and he can let Harry know; 2) I can give it to Draco to give to Harry..._

She shook her head, disgusted that she was making such a fuss over a sweater. While she hadn't interacted with anyone other than Harry and Gin lately, she could surely survive a short visit to the Burrow to return the damned thing. If she became uncomfortable, she could always claim a prior engagement, and leave. As long as she didn't allow anyone to keep her there, what could go wrong?

Feeling quite proud of herself for deciding to take an active approach, Hermione picked up the sweater and Apparated to the Weasley residence.

She landed in their yard, squashing a gnome. She felt remorse for a moment, but it was quickly tamped down as she observed just how many of the pests were running amok. Their hostility toward the intruder didn't help their case, either. She even wound up kicking a couple of them away as they tried to attack her legs. Vaguely she wondered how much the little beasts had in common with toddlers. She had heard the Terrible Two's were a killer.

Opening the door, Hermione could hear more voices than one would expect at the Burrow on an ordinary day. And was that? It was - Draco! What was _he_ doing here? He'd told her he was having lunch with Potter, and he would be back well in time for dinner. Her instincts told her to be stealthy, and she decided to eavesdrop for a moment. It was best to get a handle on the situation before reacting.

"...You're serious. Really. Walking in here and asking permission to marry Mione?" That was Ron, his voice gaining volume by the end of the question. Hermione could hear the disdain dripping from each word. She held her breath as she awaited Draco's answer.

"Yes, Weasley," came the patrician drawl she knew so well. "I'm deadly serious about this. Potter told me I would need to get the entire family's consent. Seemed like a bit much to me, but if that's what it takes -"

"Don't you think it would have been a good idea to discuss marriage with, I don't know...ME first?" The entire Weasley clan, Harry and Draco jumped and looked at the doorway, where Hermione stood holding Gin's sweater. Sparks flew from her eyes as she advanced.

There were various shouts of "Hermione!" and one nervous "Granger." She handed Ginny her sweater.

"Gin, did you know this was going to happen today?"

"Hermione, I-"

"Yes or no, Gin. Did. You. Know?" The question came out as a low growl.

The redhead gulped. "Erm, yes. Harry told me." The rest of the room had grown quiet as everyone else hoped Granger would somehow overlook their presence, thus saving them from interrogation. Even Molly and Arthur held their tongues.

"And you didn't think to say a word about this at lunch?"

"Um..."

"Is it safe to assume that you weren't really worried about being late to pick up your children?"

Ginny didn't answer. She looked at the floor, her face crimson.

Hermione then rounded on Harry.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?"

Harry paled.

"Malfoy and I had been talking and-"

"Spare me the background," she snapped. "How did you think that this would be a good idea in any way?" Mione had adopted that tone that always made Harry feel like he was 12 years old and completely incompetent.

"Granger, if I may-"

"Oh, don't worry, Malfoy - I'll get to YOU in a minute." Her boyfriend wisely shut his mouth and made a tactical retreat, placing himself slightly behind Bill and Charlie, who smirked and went back to watching the show.

George tipped his chin up and called over to Draco: "Malfoy, I'll give you my vote if it'll get you and Hermione out of our living room. She's a bit scary just now. Are you sure you want to marry her?"

Hermione whirled toward George, intent on giving him a piece of her mind. She found Ron blocking the path, his arms folded. His face was almost as white as Malfoy's. That was bad. When Ron got run-of-the-mill hacked off, his face would turn to match his hair. Pale skin, however, meant the Weasleys' youngest son was about to attack. Instead of taking on Malfoy, Ron went for his ex-girlfriend.

"Not a word. Not one bloody word in how much time now? And then I get called to a family meeting to find Malferret in my living room talking marriage, and you show up, yelling at everyone? Who the hell do you think you are?" He loomed over her. Arthur stood up to intervene; surprised when Harry laid a hand on his arm to hold him in place whispering, "Let them get it out."

Granger wasn't about to shrink from the likes of her ex. "I didn't ask for your family to have a meeting about me! I didn't ask for Draco to decide he wanted to propose. I haven't asked for a damned thing, Ronald Weasley!"

His arms unfolded, flailing for emphasis. "No, of course you haven't. Cause you haven't been there for ANYTHING or acted like a part of this family for years! Do you have any idea how selfish you've been?"

"Oh, that's rich. I'm being reprimanded by the Poster Boy for Selfish Behavior! What would you have me do, Ron? I can't wait to hear."

"Gee, let me think. I know! How about an apology?" His eyes narrowed to blue slits. "Maybe a fucking explanation for why you dumped me and the entire family? How about that?" Molly had piped in with 'language, Ronald!' when he dropped the f-bomb, but she was universally ignored.

"An explanation?"

"Yeah!"

"You want details?" Granger's voice had taken on a hysterical edge. Ron had pushed her to her limit.

"It'd be a start!" He was almost hyperventilating in his rage.

"GREAT!" She stood on tiptoes, to ensure she was right in his freckled face while she screamed at him. "Which details do you want first of my _miscarriage_ after I saved Harry's arse for the umpteenth time? Would you like to hear how much it hurt? How much I bled? How I locked myself in the loo and cried because I didn't feel safe talking to any of _you_? Maybe you'd like to hear about how many nights I've lain awake since wondering if I'm going to hell for my choices. Because we all know how fair you are, Ronald. How non-judgmental. I'm sure you would have been _so_ much help. Actually, that goes for all of you." Every word was infused with venom, and her expression terrified more than one person. Her lips were pulled back in a snarl, and tears streamed down her face. Harry noticed that once again, objects were beginning to take flight. He snagged a china pitcher as it went by his head.

"M-miscarriage?"

"Yes, Ron. 'M-miscarriage.' And no, it wasn't yours."

"Dear Merlin." The Weasley matriarch stepped forward without hesitation, and wrapped her arms around Hermione. Here was an area where Molly could relate, having lost two of her own. The younger witch stood there stonily for several moments, ignoring the embrace while she shook in anger. Molly felt a tap on her shoulder, and looked up at Draco.

"Here. Let me." He made sure to speak softly, and he kept his movements slow. Molly stepped back from Hermione, and Draco gently hugged her. She buried her face into his shoulder. He reached up to stroke the Evil Hair Monster (it had reappeared once she was upset), whispering too quietly for anyone else to hear. A sob ripped from her throat, and he led her out of the Burrow, sending the Weasel a filthy glare as he went.

"I'll check in with you later," Potter murmured as Malfoy left with his witch.

"Send an owl, Potter. Don't show up in person. I have the feeling this is going to be a long night."

Several hours later, Draco finally coaxed his girlfriend into lying down. She had been silent since they got home, and he was terribly concerned. He didn't care if she yelled, cursed at him, hexed him, whatever. Just show some fire.

She gave him an inscrutable look when he voiced this, then turned over so her back faced him.

"Granger, you've got to understand. When Potter offered to help me, I thought I was doing a good thing. Yeah, we hadn't talked about marriage proper yet, but what do you think 'I won't leave you again' meant? Permanent shacking up?"

No answer.

He took another tack.

"OK, fine. We'll take marriage off the table for now. Granger, please. Look at me. Are you all right?"

He got the slightest of shrugs in response. He sighed, removed his shoes, and curled around to spoon her. She didn't reject him, and he figured that was the best he was going to get for the night.

The following morning, Potter's owl was pecking at the window. Granger was still asleep. She had finally broken down while he was holding her, and he figured she'd be out for a while. Draco gave the bird a bit of egg (did that qualify as cannibalism?) and opened the note.

"_Malfoy-_

_Hoping Hermione is OK, but I figure she probably isn't. That blowout with Ron was certainly something. He feels terrible, by the way. So does Gin._

_The family wants me to tell you that after the way you handled Mione yesterday, you've got their unanimous blessing. Even Ron agreed without a fight. He says you can deal with her better than he ever could._

_George is still wondering if you truly want to marry her. He says to tell you he knows a good mental Healer if you feel the need to have your melon examined before attempting something so dangerous. _

_Charlie says that he can't decide if Hermione was more of a Hungarian Horntail or a Norwegian Ridgeback yesterday. Wait, never mind - he just told me she was more frightening than either. If he comes across a new species of dragon, he swears he'll work Mione's name in somewhere. _

_Seriously, please tell her all of us send our love and our apologies where applicable. We'll be here when she's ready to talk. Tell her we love her very much._

_Thanks again for taking such good care of my friend._

_-H"_


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: not mine, just doing this for fun.

A/N I - thanks for the follows, favorites and especially the reviews on this story.

* * *

To no one's surprise, the fiasco at the Weasleys' halted Hermione's progress. In fact, she regressed for several weeks. If Harry had held any doubts about whether Malfoy loved his former nemesis, they disappeared in the face of the tenderness and seemingly infinite patience Draco used with Hermione. She had refused to see anyone until he finally begged her into it, and again, only Harry was allowed.

Not that this singular status was a privilege in any way. It meant Harry had no one to hide behind the first time he saw her after that day at Molly and Arthur's. Hermione cursed him roundly, making it quite plain that she didn't believe he'd had any business whatso_fucking_ever talking to Malfoy about marriage or traditions, and she was still working through prior reasons to hate him; did he really need to give her new ones? When he complained to the blond about the thrashing he received, Draco simply shrugged and said it beat the silent treatment. Aside from the sounds she made when crying, Granger had refused to speak to him for the first three days. The morning of the fourth day found him making coffee in the kitchen.

Small feet padded softly in his direction.

He didn't turn.

A hand settled near him on the countertop. He maintained his position.

Finally, he heard a quiet exhalation, and the hand moved to his forearm.

"Are we speaking again?" He hadn't meant it so come out as archly as it did, but there you have it.

He received a whimper in response, and she banged her head lightly against his back. He caved and took her in his arms.

"I'm sorry." Big, limpid brown eyes looked up at him.

"It's alright, Granger. You have nothing to apologize for." He removed one hand from her to run it through his hair then led her to the couch. He sat first, guiding her onto his lap.

"Why did you have to go to the Weasleys'? It was so soon after we got back together, and I hadn't even seen most of them for so long."

"I thought you didn't want the background."

"I didn't when I was furious. Now I do."

"OK," he took a deep breath. "Potter and I had our weekly whatever you call it, and he was taking the piss about an article that said I'd gone to him to ask permission to marry you. He told me that since you were an Honorary Weasel, I would need approval by the whole pack. I panicked at the thought of how many gingers I'd have to talk to, and he urged me to start immediately. Like an arse, I took him seriously, and asked him." Malfoy's face was flushed as he checked her reaction. She was biting her lip, and he thought he could see amusement lurking underneath the irritation, so he took a gamble.

"The wanker even told me I'd need to contact Fred. When I said he was dead, Potter suggested I get Trelawney to help with a séance!"

Jackpot. Her laugh rang out like chimes, until she lost it and snorted, covering her mouth in embarrassment.

"Please tell me you knew by then that he was kidding."

"I figured he was fucking with me about Fred, but he seemed serious about the rest of the Weasley clan. I get that it was too soon, but please understand; I thought that by the time I secured everyone's approval, we'd likely be at the right point. I was already certain on my end. I just wanted to do what I believed would make you happy. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, reaching up a delicate hand to cup his jaw. "You don't need their blessing. Anyway, after our last visit, God alone knows how long it would take to get everyone to say 'yes' anyway."

He moved her off of his lap. "Be right back," and he returned with Harry's letter. "You don't have to read all of it if you don't want to, but check out this sentence here." He pointed it out, and watched the play of emotions across her face.

"Unanimous approval?"

"Yep. Though George still wants me to have my head examined. Look, Granger: If you want to shack up and live in sin the rest of our lives, fine. I won't press you about this. I'll take you any way I can get you." He saw her eyes filling with tears as she gave him a watery smile.

"Any way you can get me, huh?"

"Sure. Bed, bath, wall, kitchen table..." She shot him a disgusted look, and he sobered, his eyes piercing hers. "Any way at all; just don't make me leave."

She crawled back into his lap, wrapping her slender arms around his neck. He tucked her head into the crook between his chin and his shoulder, and tightened his grip around her.

Her lips curved against his skin. "I won't make you leave."

"Thank Merlin. I'm lazy; if you kicked me out, I'd have to start stalking you properly as opposed to just looking over, or at most going to a different room to find you. Seriously, Granger, I just can't be arsed to make that much of an effort. Aristocrats do _not_ labor."

She gave him a half-hearted swat. "Prat."

"Cow."

"Bastard."

"Bitch."

"Arsehole."

"I love you, too." He smirked as she snuggled further into him at that.

"Don't think an 'I love you' will keep me from thinking you're the biggest jackass I've ever met."

"Call me anything you want, darling, as long as I'm near enough to hear it." He reached over and wound a lock of her hair around his finger.

"I love you, Malfoy."

"I love you too. Bitch. OW! Woman, that was my hair!"

* * *

The following day found a happy Draco Malfoy sitting behind a desk the size of a small country. He hadn't slept well when Hermione was upset with him. They had kissed and made up last night, and he could feel the untapped potential of the day ahead of him. Yep, things were finally going right.

Right to Hades in a handbasket.

As soon as he'd had his optimistic thought, the doors to his office burst open, and the Weasel King himself barged in.

"Malfoy." The bastard looked nervous. Good. Draco noticed his distraught secretary trailing the boorish Auror, and he subtly waved her off. She backed out, closing the office doors.

"Weaselbee. To what do I owe this dubious honor?" Draco lazily indicated a chair in front of his desk, and the redhead sat.

"Harry won't tell me how Hermione's doing. It's driving me mental. Listen, I'm sorry for that day. I had no idea!"

"You've known Granger since she was 11, have you not?"

"You know I have, Malfoy."

"How many times in the duration of your friendship have you known her to be selfish, or to do something without reason?"

Weasley began inspecting the carpet.

"That's what I thought. So you can see why she's furious. She's hurt. I would be too if I bothered to have friends, and they had no faith in me."

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"Weasley, you probably don't mean to do a lot of things. You must have some brainpower, or you'd have been dragonbait by now. Stupid Aurors don't last. Try using some of that alleged intelligence in this situation." Draco made note that Ron didn't retaliate.

The ginger looked up. "You know, I've never liked you Malfoy."

"Certainly mutual."

"When I saw how you comforted Mione at my folks' house, I should've been happy for her." He paused and ground out, "I was jealous."

"I thought Potter told me you were seeing Lovegood these days?"

"It's not that kind of jealousy." At Draco's skeptical glare, he amended, "Fine, maybe a little. It was more because you could do something I never was able to. It rankled, you know?"

"I get it. But think for a moment what kind of shit had to happen to enable me to be that good with her." He raised a brow, "Still feeling envious?"

"Now I'm feeling like a sack of shit."

"Good man."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Malfoy?"

"Weasley?"

"I'm, um, sorry for your loss. It _was_ yours, right?"

"I'll do us both a favor and pretend I didn't hear the end of that sentence."

Ron looked relieved.

"Weasley?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Ron stood up, preparing to take his leave. Draco rose as well to show him out.

"Do you want me to tell Granger you were here?"

"Whatever you think is best. I trust you." He turned and nodded a goodbye: "Malferret."

"Weasel."

Perhaps things were going right, after all.

* * *

A/N II - to those who think Draco was too OOC when dealing with Ron, my rationale is that he's tired of fighting, and he's grown up a bit. He may not like Ron, but he will keep in mind that Ron means something to Hermione. That's why there was no fight in his office.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Sure, I own Harry Potter. And the Brooklyn Bridge. And the Grand Canyon. Get real. I did make up Obice Ruptor.

A/N - Thanks to AntiGravidy, Guest and arcticCat621 for taking the time to review. It's much appreciated. Chapter 17 had over 300 views, and two comments (AntiGravidy's was for an earlier chapter), so your words were like gold. :) Thank you to those who followed and favorited, as well. No Dramione this chapter; I'm tying up a loose end from before.

A/N II - THIS IS GOING IN ALL CAPS, BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU TO MISS IT. THIS IS AN UGLY CHAPTER. DO NOT READ IF EASILY OFFENDED. Sexual assault at a Death Eater revel is mentioned. I've done my best to keep it as vague as possible. Please don't flame about it. There's a reason it's in the story.

* * *

While Draco gave Ron a reality check, Harry sat at his desk with a worried frown. He reread the letter received that morning from a guard at Azkaban, one Milo Lenderhall. Said guard had been dealing with Lucius Malfoy since the Death Eater's incarceration. About three months ago, Malfoy had said something that caught Milo's attention, but he forgot to relay it due being distracted by another Death Eater attempting suicide in his cell. Lenderhall apologized profusely for his report's tardiness, but per the warden could the Auror Office please send someone to Azkaban? Lenderhall didn't get much time off from work. Harry twirled a quill in his hands, and decided that if this concerned Lucius, it would be best if he handled the interview personally. He responded in the affirmative to Lenderhall's owl, and waited for a Portkey to arrive from the warden's office. Half an hour later, a bird returned clutching an agate marble. Time to go.

He left a brief note for his partner:

_Ron:_

_Hopefully Draco left enough of you intact that you're reading this. I haven't received word of any emergency from St. Mungo's, so I'm assuming you behaved yourself. _

_Something's come up, and I've gone to Azkaban to take a statement regarding Lucius Malfoy. No need for you to join me. I'll fill you in on the details later._

_I'm heading home after I'm done. See you in the morning._

_-H_

With that, Harry gathered his cloak and an Interrogation Kit containing Veritaserum and a concoction called Obice Ruptor, or O.R. Technically the potion was still in the trial stage, and available only to Magical Law Enforcement authorities. Most recipients found themselves incapable of maintaining mental barriers after just a few drops. Even a highly accomplished Occlumens had great difficulty hiding information. It didn't hurt that in the years since Hogwarts, Harry had become a brutally effective Legilimens.

He knew it was petty, but he fervently hoped he'd get to use O.R. on dear old Lucius. No guilt accompanied this thought; he figured Merlin or God or the Blue Spotted Iguana King (Whatever was Up There) would likely give him a pass. The elder Malfoy hadn't learned or repented over time. In fact, rumor had it Azkaban had only made the man's anger and hate stronger.

Potter grabbed the marble, and felt the always-uncomfortable sensation of pulling behind one's navel. Apparition was much preferred, but Azkaban had security measures in place that included Anti-Apparition wards. Portkeys were created no more than an hour before they activated, and none were kept in reserve. Portkeys only went to one place in the prison: the warden's office. Reprogramming was not an option.

While Harry disliked traveling in such a fashion, he understood the need for hyper-vigilance. Old Moody had been right about having to stay aware, especially in a hellhole like Azkaban. The Dementors had been removed, though the Ministry kept a couple in reserve specifically for those who earned The Kiss. It had been quite some time since a spiritual death sentence had been handed down, so he imagined the damned things were starving by now.

Even without the shrouded horrors around, the Auror found himself fighting a shiver. If one had any awareness of energy, the negativity housed at the prison hit like a bucket of ice water. It could have been worse, though. At least the Portkey took him directly inside, and he didn't have to see Azkaban's exterior.

* * *

Warden Aksel Enstad was sitting on the edge of his desk when Harry arrived. Enstad was short and slightly built, but his aura crackled with power. It was impossible to tell his exact age. He was younger than Dumbledore had been, but Harry didn't know by how much. He suspected that the lines on Enstad's face could tell quite a story. The warden had hazel eyes that seemed to notice everything, though the man said little.

Enstad greeted him with an understated smile, and Harry liked him immediately.

"Mr. Potter, thank you for coming. It is a privilege to meet you."

"Thank you, Warden Enstad. I must admit, I'm intrigued by Mr. Lenderhall's letter. What can you tell me about him and the situation?"

"Milo Lenderhall has been with us for nine years. He is honest. No complaints of prisoner abuse or misuse of authority have been made against him. There is nothing outstanding in his file. He is not noted to be close to anyone here. Details of his personal life are unknown."

Harry pursed his lips in thought, and gave Enstad a shrewd look. "All right, that covers his file. Now, Warden, what is _your_ take on the man?"

Again, the small smile. They understood each other.

"He is a wizard of middling ability. I doubt he will ever aspire to be more than he is currently. I have heard that he despises Lucius Malfoy. Other guards have overheard him taunting Malfoy, but it never goes far enough for a complaint to be filed. To the best of my knowledge, he has not physically abused the prisoner."

"And something tells me that the best of your knowledge is quite good, sir."

Enstad gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I suppose. As to why we contacted your office, Lenderhall came to me this morning stating that he had just remembered an odd interaction with Malfoy. He wasn't sure if there was anything to it. I decided to err on the side of caution, and here you are."

"Thank you, Warden Enstad. May I speak with Lenderhall, please?"

The warden flicked a hand at the door to his office, and it opened. He beckoned the guard.

Lenderhall was probably mid-forties, with thinning dark hair. He was of medium height with a slight paunch. Broken capillaries on his nose and cheeks bespoke a possible love of alcohol. His eyes neither shone with intelligence nor looked dull from the lack of it. As the warden had implied, there didn't seem to be anything special about the man. He looked slightly nervous about being in the warden's office, but that was to be expected. The warden bade him sit.

The guard took a close look at the Auror. "Cor! Harry Potter himself came out for this?"

Harry did his best not to roll his eyes. "Mr. Lenderhall. I received your owl this morning."

"Yes, sir. I know I dropped a clanger, forgetting like that, but-"

Enstad cut him off. "We will discuss that later. For now, please answer Auror Potter's questions."

Harry started again. "What can you tell me about Lucius Malfoy?"

"He's horrible. You can feel the evil coming off him when you're still a good distance from him."

"What can you tell me about Lucius that I _don't_ already know?" Potter asked wryly.

"Doesn't usually say a whole lot. Often doesn't even look at you. Carries himself like the King, even though he's ragged and grubby. Since he acts so high and mighty, every now and then if I can knock him down a notch, I do, see?"

"Go on."

"Do you remember that article in the _Prophet_ about his son and Hermione Granger? The Skeeter piece."

"Yes..." Harry made a motion for the guard to continue.

"Well, I made a point of taking a copy of the paper to him that day. He said something about a fool not doing anything right. And he kept muttering. I don't remember off the top of my head what else he was going on about. I forgot about it when Goyle tried to off himself and I had to bind him and take him to the infirmary. I just remembered about Malfoy today."

Frustrated with the lack of detail in Lenderhall's account, Harry asked the man to pull out the memory. Enstad wordlessly offered up his personal Pensieve.

The wisp of memory was dropped in, and Potter entered the scene.

_It was cold, dark and dirty. Moisture collected on the stone walls. Someone was sobbing quietly. Lenderhall swaggered to Malfoy's cell, waving a copy of the paper. A nasty grin was plastered on his sallow face._

_"Thought you'd be interested. Progressive of your son, putting aside blood prejudice. You must be so proud, Lucius."_

_A filthy hand reached through the bars to take the periodical, and Malfoy scowled when he saw the front page._

_Harry made sure to listen to the memory closely, praying that Lenderhall had picked up more than he realized. _

_"Those dolts. Should have finished the job. The fools couldn't do anything right."_

_"What was that, Mr. Malfoy?"_

_"Nothing, I assure you. I said nothing." Lucius faded back into the shadows._

Harry pulled his face from the Pensieve. "I need to see Malfoy, Warden Enstad."

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter. I'll tell the guards to go through the protocol and bring him up. Do you require Lenderhall's presence any longer?"

"No, thank you. I believe we're done."

Enstad turned to the guard. "Dismissed. You will return later."

Lenderhall left the office as quickly as he could without bolting outright. Harry was reminded of Peter Pettigrew as he watched the man scuttle away.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Warden Enstad came back to collect Potter. The elder wizard led the Auror to an interview room that combined physical and magical failsafes to keep a prisoner from escaping. Two guards were stationed inside. Three more stood ready outside.

Harry stepped forward and got his first look at Lucius Malfoy since the trial. He was lean, bordering on gaunt. Dark circles ringed his eyes. His hair was dull and greasy enough to rival Snape's on his worst day, with obvious tangles. He had quite a bit of scruff on his jaw. Merlin alone knew when the last time was that the man had a proper bath. Someone had likely used a quick _Scourgify_, but Harry knew from experience that a spell only did so much before soap and water were required.

Malfoy deigned to glance at his visitor. Immediately his grey eyes lit with a maniacal gleam. "_Potter_," he spat.

"Hello Lucius. Long time no see. Have you missed me?"

Lucius said nothing and continued to stare fixedly.

Harry turned to the guards. "You need to immobilize him for a moment."

"Further, sir?"

"Just for a moment."

They Stupefied Malfoy, and Potter withdrew the vial of Obice Ruptor. He put a few drops in Lucius' mouth, then thought better of it and poured in half of the contents. At best it would help to drop the bastard's defenses. At worst, well...Harry didn't see a downside, quite frankly. He took a seat and waited for the potion to work. When he saw Malfoy's eyes glaze over, he told the guards to Rennervate Lucius after they counted to three. He started his count when they did, with one change:

"One, two, Legilimens!" And he was in Lucius' mind.

_Random images assaulted him from all sides. Malfoy had lost his ability to compartmentalize. Harry wasn't sure if that was due to the potion or if it was a side effect of imprisonment. He did his best not to shudder as he saw memories of Death Eater revels. Torture, sexual assault and murder were commonplace, and he was horrified at how innocuous spells were twisted to inflict pain. He saw scores of bodies lying around like broken dolls._

_It was in one such memory that he discovered that Lucius Malfoy hated his son. A revel was in full swing, and Voldemort had ordered Draco to rape a young woman tied down on an altar. The Malfoy heir looked sick. He shook his head and stepped back. Lucius slapped him across the face, knocking the boy to the ground. _

_"Salazar's balls, boy. If you're that delicate, perhaps we should put you up there next to her. You're pathetic."_

_Draco merely stared in horror as his father stepped up to the girl, opening his robes. Seconds later, horrendous screams echoed about the room, accompanied by Lucius' rich laughter. She'd been a virgin. _

_"This is how it's done, you sorry excuse for a man. You take after your mother - weak!" He finished with his victim and left her to the distinctly un-tender mercies of his colleagues. He moved swiftly toward Draco and raised his wand._

_"AVADA -" His voice had the same guttural hiss that Harry remembered._

_"Stop, Lucius." Voldemort waved a bored hand._

_"My Lord?" Malfoy Sr. turned to him uncertainly._

_"I still have need of young Draco. Lower your wand."_

_The Malfoy patriarch dropped his arm, glaring daggers at his son. When the Dark Lord dismissed him, he turned on his heel and left the boy._

_More memories flew by and then stopped, showing Lucius at an abandoned house. He was meeting with two men. They had the look of seasoned veterans about them. Both were tall and well-built with hardened expressions. Harry made them for mercenaries immediately._

_Malfoy gave one of the men a pouch and it made a clinking sound as it hit the man's hands. The mercenary looked at Lucius and asked tentatively, "You're __sure__ about this, sir? I mean, he's your son."_

_"Of course I'm certain, you dolt. I want him dead. He's a stain on the family name. I've set it up so that he'll be here on a scouting mission tonight. Make sure what you do is untraceable. Under no circumstances can anyone know I had anything to do with this. All I ask is that you leave his worthless carcass somewhere that it can be found, for his mother's sake."_

_"Yes sir."_

_Lucius sniffed in disgust, and Disapparated._

Harry pulled out of Malfoy's mind and shook his head, astonished. "That's horrible even for you, Lucius. I'll make sure you get The Kiss for this."

The haughty blond regarded him silently.

"Take him back to his cell." He turned to Enstad. "Please arrange a Portkey. I'll be going now."

"Destination?"

Potter had planned on knocking off for the night, but thought better of it. "Send me back to the office."

Moments later, another marble was in his palm.

When he arrived, he sent an owl to Gin to let her know he was tied up, and another to Kingsley to keep his boss informed. After doing the initial paperwork, Harry grabbed the mug shot albums to see if he could identify the mercenaries he'd seen in Lucius' memory. The first book was a bust, and his eyes felt like they had sand in them. He needed to go home, though he was fairly certain he wouldn't get any rest. He scrubbed his hands over his face as he thought.

How in the world was he going to tell Draco?

* * *

A/N III - I think this is the last time I'll make Lucius so evil. It really bothered me to do so, though it's the direction the story took. I need to go work on "Playmate," where he's lovable.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer - Characters are not mine. Plot is.

A/N: Thank you to shine25, arcticcat621, Guest and dutch potterfan. Your reviews make me smile!

Thank you as well to those who follow and/or favorite. I hope this next installment is up to standard. There's some Dramione this time around.

* * *

Ron was already at his desk when Harry arrived half an hour late the next morning. The brunette's eyes were red and if he'd gotten anywhere near a razor, he'd used the wrong end.

"You look like shite, mate."

Harry agreed wearily. "Didn't get any sleep. I was tossing and turning so much I voluntarily slept on the couch, so at least Gin could get some rest."

"But your couch sucks!"

"Which is why I look like shite." Potter fetched himself a cup of coffee and took his seat. "I need to talk to you about what happened yesterday."

"The Lucius thing?" Weasley leaned forward in his seat.

"Yeah. Ron, I can't even comprehend what that sick son of a bitch was thinking."

For once the redhead showed some sensitivity. "Let's talk in private then, if it's that bad."

They found an empty interview room and warded it, and Harry shared the details of his Azkaban visit.

"Fuck's sake! His own _son_?" Ron may not have liked Malfoy, but as someone from a loving family, he actually felt a bit ill after hearing what Lucius had done.

"Yep. And now I have to figure out how to tell Draco. Regardless of what he was like as a kid, he's actually decent now. I hate to do this to him. I mean, I know they aren't close anymore, but Draco was a Daddy's Boy when he was younger."

"I remember. Only thing I can suggest is have Hermione there to calm him down when he hears." Weasley paused for a moment. "You know, I saw him yesterday."

"How did that go?" Ron didn't miss the crease in his friend's brow.

"Better than expected. I was surprised. I, um, apologized for what happened with Mione, and said I was sorry for his loss." He didn't mention the second part of the last sentence; it wasn't one of his finer moments. "He said some stuff that made sense, and I think we kind of made a truce."

"That's great, Ron. I wouldn't have thought."

"Me neither. Harry, when you tell him about this, let him and Mione know that if I can help somehow, I will."

Harry considered this for a moment. "Sure thing. I think they'll appreciate that. I'd better set up a meeting. Find an owl for me, would you? I'll send a note to his office." He headed back to his desk.

_Malfoy-_

_I swear the War is like a poisoned gift that keeps on giving. Need to speak with you soonest. It's probably a good idea to have Hermione there. Clear your schedule afterward too, please._

_H_

He received a response in record time:

_Potter:_

_I've cancelled my meetings for the day and will be at Hermione's by the time you read this. Come over._

_D_

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Wish me luck, Ron."

"Luck, Harry." Ron turned sadly back to the papers on his desk, trying to imagine what it would be like to have your own father want you dead. In his youth, the youngest Weasley son had envied the Malfoy heir his looks and money. Now, he thanked Merlin he'd had the good fortune to be born to Arthur and Molly.

Harry Apparated to the alley next to Hermione's flat, and took the elevator to her floor. While they were on better terms, he still wouldn't presume to arrive in her home.

* * *

_**Knock Knock Knock**_

His old friend answered the door, and she looked much as he always remembered her. Then he realized she wore an expression of extreme concern mixed with trepidation. _If that's how I best remember Mione, what does that say about our friendship?_ _File this for examination later. _

"Harry? Are you all right?" She waved her fingers in front of him, and he snapped to.

"Sorry about that. Woolgathering for a minute, I guess."

"Mm-hm. Come on in." She opened the door wider, and he stepped across the threshold.

"Where's Draco?"

"Right here, Potter." The blond emerged from the bedroom, pulling on a casual shirt. "Your note sounds like things are about to go pear-shaped again, and I thought I should at least be comfortable for it."

"Good idea. May I sit down?"

"Of course." Malfoy sat on the couch and patted the cushion. Hermione crossed the room, and dropped next to him. Automatically, she took his hand in hers.

"Malfoy, I'm really sorry to have to come to you with this, I hate to-"

Draco raised a hand. "Potter, I can tell it's major. You're obviously upset. Do us all a favor and just say it, whatever it is, okay?" Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Right." Harry steeled himself. "I received a letter from an Azkaban guard yesterday..." He trailed off when he saw Draco lose what little color he had, then picked back up. "The guard had taken a copy of the Skeeter story to your father, and Lucius had an odd reaction."

"Define odd."

"He said something about a fool not finishing the job. I reviewed the guard's memory for more details and then had the warden bring Lucius up for an interview."

"That must have been charming," Draco remarked dryly. "How is Father Dearest?"

"I suppose 'crazed' would be a good description. We have a potion that breaks down mental barriers. I gave it to him, and used Legilimens."

Malfoy winced. "I can only imagine what you found in there." He could feel Hermione tremble lightly next to him, so he removed his hand from hers, and slung his arm around her. She molded herself against his side.

Harry noted this, and continued. "I tried to ignore as much of it as possible. Like I told you, he'd said something about someone not doing a job right when he saw the picture. I found a very clear memory of a Death Eater revel in his mind. You had been asked to do _something_, and you refused. He slapped you."

"Oh, shit." Malfoy looked at his lap. "I know which memory this is."

"I don't. Someone fill me in, please?" Hermione turned to her boyfriend, taking his chin in her hand.

He refused to meet her eyes. "Granger, Voldemort tried to make me, erm, force myself on a Muggle girl. I said no. Father slapped me then he did as Voldemort wished, in my stead."

"Draco, that's horrid!" She hugged him to her tightly.

"It really was. He suggested making me the next to get it, and then he started to _Avada_ me. Voldemort stopped him, saying he still wanted me around. Father got pissed off and left. Why is this coming up now, Potter?"

"Before I answer that, can you tell me when that incident happened?"

"I don't remember the exact date, but it was the last revel I attended before I wound up at Malloy Manse."

"How much time elapsed between the revel, and when you were attacked?"

"Two, maybe three days. Why?" Draco's eyes narrowed.

"While I was in Lucius' mind, there was a memory that presented itself shortly after that revel. Draco, I don't know how to say this: your father met with a couple of men, and set it up for you to be killed. I'm so sorry."

Hermione gasped and Potter looked sympathetic.

The Slytherin sat still as an ice sculpture. "I always wondered if he was involved. I thought he wouldn't do that to his own child, especially after Voldemort stayed his hand. I figured his temper would cool. Should've known I was giving him too much credit. I knew it wasn't the Order, because they didn't operate that way. Maybe Weasley or Finnegan might have back then, but I didn't recognize any voices." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Give me the details."

"Like I said, he met with two men. It was in an abandoned house, and he said he'd set it up so you would be on a solo mission there. One of the men asked if your father was sure he wanted to do this; they knew you were his son. He confirmed it, and said that no one could know he was connected. He asked that your body be left where it could be found, for your mother's sake.

I'd like to go through your memories of the attack and have you review what I pulled from Lucius, if you can."

Draco remained motionless, though the tumult was clear on his face. Eventually his breathing increased until his shoulders were shaking. His silvery eyes darkened to a charcoal color. His jaw clenched, and Harry could see his wand hand flex. He finally erupted, and it was awful. Malfoy sprang to his feet. Ugly blotches of red appeared on his pale cheeks, and his face contorted. When he spoke, it began as a hiss and rose to a roar.

"That sick, sorry waste of flesh! That ARSEHOLE! MY FUCKING FATHER! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL? HOW DO YOU DO THAT TO YOUR OWN FAMILY? I DID EVERYTHING I COULD TO PLEASE HIM! I LIVED FOR HIM! _HE WAS MY GOD_!" His voice broke at the last, then the rant continued, devolving into a torrent of expletives and pain.

Hermione was thrown backward as Malfoy's magic lost control. It was shooting in all directions with him at the center, and shaking the walls so hard it gave the illusion the flat was breathing. Harry thought the building would fly apart. He made an executive decision, grabbed Draco and Disapparated.

* * *

They landed with a hard thud, and Malfoy jumped to his feet, furious. "What the _fuck_ was that, Potter?"

"You were going to tear Mione's flat to pieces. You also shot her across the room. I didn't think it was safe to stay there."

Malfoy stopped to consider this then agreed with the logic, calming minutely as he took in his surroundings. "So where are we? This looks like some sort of course."

"It is. This is the Aurors' training range. It's reinforced, and will present targets of varying difficulty you can destroy to your heart's content. I thought this would be a good way for you to let everything out. I'll send Mione a _Patronus_ to let her know where we are, and that we're safe."

"Thank you, Harry." Draco's tone had softened as he realized that Potter made the right call. He couldn't live with himself if he harmed Hermione.

"You're welcome. Have at it. Oh - if you want, just think of someone's face, and the targets will adopt it."

"Nice touch, Potter."

Harry smirked and sped off the range to send a message to his friend.

An hour later, Draco was still at it. He'd run through all of the standard spells, and was currently using some darker examples when Ron showed up.

The redhead surveyed the damage before him and whistled. "Damn. All that from Malfoy?"

Harry was sitting on a crate he had found. "Yep. And he doesn't seem tired yet. He hasn't even repeated a spell!"

Weasley felt grudging admiration. "That's quite an arsenal. I guess he really isn't the little coward from school anymore. You told him about his dad, then?"

"He's a long way from school; you don't know the half of it. Yeah, I told him about Lucius. He almost destroyed Mione's flat. This was the first place I could think of to bring him."

Both of their heads turned back to the range at the sound of a particularly spectacular explosion. A shredded target plummeted to the ground around Draco.

"Harry, was that?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's a Level Seven on difficulty!"

Potter grinned. "So it was. I'm starting to wonder if Malfoy missed his calling."

After two hours, most of the Auror Department had gathered to watch.

"He still hasn't repeated a spell." Ron was caught between awe and fear.

"I'm waiting for him to get it out of his system. I have an idea."

Three more detonations in rapid succession drew various admiring exclamations from the Aurors assembled. An Auror on loan from across the pond summed it up best: "Fuckin' A!" The law enforcement agents broke out in a round of loud applause, finally drawing Malfoy's attention.

"What? Potter, who are all these people?" The blond looked distinctly uncomfortable as the Senior Auror approached. "By the way," he continued as an aside, "I really have to get one of these built. This is dead useful."

Harry clapped Draco on the shoulder. "Draco Malfoy, meet pretty much the entire Auror Department. They've been watching you for over an hour. I've been here since you started, and I have a proposal."

Malfoy raised a brow. "Proposal? I'm already taken, Potter. So are you. Or have you forgotten?"

"Shut up, idiot. Don't think I didn't notice that you never did the same spell twice. It was brilliant! You want access to a range, I'll make a deal with you: be a consultant for the department and train us on what you were using, and I'll make sure you receive full privileges here for life."

"Potter..." Harry was amused to see that Draco was embarrassed.

"Seriously, Malfoy, did you ever consider becoming an Auror? You've got knowledge and more than enough stamina."

"I've also got a record, remember? Besides," his voice lowered in shame, "I've had enough fighting to last me a lifetime."

"There's nothing to keep you from a consultant position at the very least. I can clear it with Kingsley. You could do a lot of good, teaching us to defend against what you were using."

Malfoy's shoulders slumped. Exhaustion was catching up with him now that the adrenaline was fading. "Tell you what: let me rest and we'll talk about it. I have one other condition; meet it and I'll teach your department anything you want to know."

"Name it."

"Get me into Azkaban to see Lucius."

"Malfoy, that's not a good idea-"

"Potter, you can take my wand and incapacitate me however you see fit. But this is important. I have some things to say to him. Let me face him and I'll do whatever you want." Grey eyes bored into green.

Harry sighed. "It's against my better judgment."

"But?" Draco could see Potter was wavering.

"But I'll set it up. I've got to ask: what do you have to say to him? You know he's going to get The Kiss for Conspiracy to Murder."

"I know, which is why I need to do this before his mind is gone. I want him to understand just how dearly he paid for his decision."

"Draco, what are you talking about?"

"Just get me face to face with him. I'm fine with you being there. It will all make sense, and I daresay you'll enjoy it immensely."

"I'll get back to you about it."

"Fine. I'd best head back to Hermione's. Thank you again. I really needed this."

"You're welcome. Give Mione a hug for me, if she'll let you near her."

"It was that bad?"

"She shot across the room, Malfoy. She's likely to be a bit testy."

"Draco?" Both men turned in response to the soft address. Hermione was keeping a safe distance, but she didn't look angry.

"Love," he breathed, moving rapidly to her side. "Are you alright? I am so sorry."

She ran a hand across his cheek, "Don't worry. I survived Voldemort, I can handle you. And you will be making it up to me somehow. Harry, is he done here?"

"Sure, Hermione." Harry noticed Ron sidling up and shook his head subtly. The Junior Auror looked downcast and retreated.

"Good. I'm going to take Hurricane Draco home, then. Come on, you." Granger linked her arm through her boyfriend's, and began to lead him away.

* * *

"So," he began sheepishly, "How bad is the flat?"

"Torn to bits," she muttered darkly. He stopped and faced her.

"How would you feel about moving? I've been meaning to mention it. Now seems like the perfect time."

"We can discuss it." She glanced up at him, uncharacteristically shy. "I'd like to talk to you about something, too."

"Hang on." He Apparated them home. She wasn't exaggerating. Damn near everything he saw was in pieces.

"Is the bathtub still functioning?"

"You want to take a bath right now?"

"I want to be very close to you and naked right now. The couch is split in half, the bed's broken, and the walls don't look 100%."

She shook her head in mock disgust, and they surveyed the bathroom. "It appears to be better than everywhere else." She reached over and started the taps as he disrobed.

She felt him press against her from behind and watched as long, elegant fingers reached around to undo her blouse.

"Again, I apologize, Granger. You weren't hurt, were you?"

"I assure you, I'm fine."

"I should still check for bruises." Her pants slid down to join her discarded top.

She looked at him over her shoulder coyly, "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Call it anything you want, as long as the end result's the same."

"Get in the tub, pervert."

He stepped in, and as before, she sat in between his legs. Draco hugged her tightly to him and they soaked quietly for a long time. He finally broke the silence.

"I was so angry."

"I know. I was worried about you; especially when Harry took you away from me."

"He was right to do it. Sweet Circe, this flat is thrashed."

"I'm hoping to get it fixed before the landlord sees."

"Fuck it- I'll buy the building. Problem solved." He planted a kiss on her hair.

"You can't solve everything with money, Draco."

"Damn near."

She chuckled and leaned her head against his neck. "I hurt for you when Harry told us what happened."

"You're a Gryffindor. That's what you people do, along with rushing blindly into danger."

"Shut up, arse. I'm trying to say something."

His hand made a flourishing motion. "Of course, milady. Pardon me."

"Between the hurt and the worry, it drove home just how much you mean to me." She stopped, moved forward and turned so she could see his eyes. "Draco Malfoy, you're irritating and arrogant, and some days you drive me absolutely insane." He pulled a face, and she continued, "You also saved my life when you reentered it, and I love you more than anything. So, I was thinking about all of it-"

"Merlin, Granger - while we're young, yeah?"

She snorted. "Will you marry me?" Her sweet face looked up at him hopefully.

He adopted an offended expression. "Well, I don't know. Where's my ring? What kind of rubbish proposal is this?" She looked so uncertain he couldn't put her on any longer.

"Come here, witch. Of course I'll marry you."

"Oh, Draco!"

"As long as you tell everyone exactly how you proposed, including the nudity." He smirked evilly.

"Bastard."

"I love you, t-MMPH!" He smiled as she cut him off with a kiss.

* * *

A/N II - They're engaged! Next chapter: Malfoy v. Malfoy.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer- characters, etc. are JKR's. Plot's mine.

A/N - thanks to arcticcat621, dutch potterfan and Guest (do me a favor & put your initials or something at the end in the future, so I know if it's the same person, ok?). You guys have been faithful about reviewing, and I love you for it. If I didn't have a counter in the report console, I'd swear no more than 15 or so people saw this story. :-) Thanks to the follows & favorites, too. FYI: I am considering ending this in the next few chapters, in order to work on new stuff. One-shots are usually more my thing.

* * *

Harry had to work harder than he thought would be necessary when he went in to convince Kingsley to allow Draco to see Lucius. It was a good sign that the Minister wasn't concerned about the younger Malfoy trying to hatch any escape attempts; Shacklebolt merely worried about what could go wrong. The Auror relayed Draco's willingness to suffer any necessary security measures up to and including magical incapacitation in order to attend such a meeting. After a day's deliberation, Kingsley acceded to the request on the conditions that 1) Draco surrender his wand; 2) Extra Aurors be placed in and outside the interview cell, and 3) Harry would provide a detailed briefing upon his return.

On a more relaxed note, the Minister was very interested to hear of Malfoy's expertise on the training range, and he was receptive to Harry's request to make Draco a consultant, as long as the Auror got a full accounting of all of the spells the ex-Death Eater knew. This would include the spell's name, purpose, possible side effects and damage level. Upon receiving the list, the Minister would decide which spells would be taught, and to whom. Harry promptly informed Draco and they agreed to work time to discuss that into their regular weekly meetings. Ron even asked to accompany Harry a handful of times after reviewing what had been listed previously. Weasley and Malfoy still weren't friends per se, but a wary respect had sprung up on the Junior Auror's part, and Draco had matured enough to treat Ron civilly. The two men also discovered a mutual interest in Wizards' Chess, and the Slytherin won more points with the redhead when he demonstrated an ancient Moorish strategy Ron deemed 'wicked.'

It took almost a month for the visit paperwork to go through Azkaban's channels. In that time, Harry had reviewed Draco's memories of the attack and had his friend go through what was pulled from Lucius. They caught a lucky break when Malfoy recognized one of the mercenaries as Anders Thornfield, a low-level Death Eater wannabe who had been looking to advance. Draco had seen the man meeting with Lucius on a couple of occasions, but did not know much about him other than his name. Harry said that was enough. Armed with this information, he finally located Thornfield's record, and was able to look up the criminal's known associates. James Anderton had been a frequent partner. Both men were thugs-for-hire and petty thieves. When the Aurors' office investigated further, they found that Thornfield died resisting arrest the previous year, but Anderton had an address on file. He was brought in for questioning and broke immediately, confirming that Lucius Malfoy had arranged and paid for the murder of his son. When he and Thornfield left their victim by the fireplace in that abandoned house, they believed him moments from death. Anderton said he'd been amazed to discover Draco survived. Harry found himself caught between amusement and disgust when the mercenary voiced the fear that he would have to refund Lucius' money as a penalty for failure. The criminal definitely wasn't the sharpest knife on the Potions table.

Three days after receiving confirmation of Lucius' involvement in the conspiracy, visiting day arrived. Warden Enstad met them in his office and reviewed proper procedure. 'Do not step too close to the prisoner, do not hand the prisoner anything, etc.' Malfoy had received the lecture from Potter and Shacklebolt ad nauseam already, so he half-listened. If Enstad noticed this, he refrained from comment.

Draco hesitantly surrendered his wand as required and followed Harry and the warden to the interview cell. Weasley was on duty outside, and he tipped the men a curt nod as they passed. "Good luck, Malfoy."

"Wish Lucius the luck, Weasley. He'll need it." Harry chuckled softly at Draco's response as he held the door open.

Upon entering the stark grey room, the younger Malfoy saw his father at the other end, perhaps four metres away. He couldn't help his sick satisfaction at the bastard's condition. Lucius' ankles were shackled to the floor, and his hands were likewise attached to an interview table that was bolted down. He even wore a heavy iron collar around his neck, the chain looped through a ring in the stone near his feet. All of the restraints had been magically enhanced. Two of Potter's top Aurors stood watch, one on either side of the icy former aristocrat. Potter had mentioned that the two chosen had the coolest heads in an emergency.

Harry noticed that Draco immediately reverted to the caustic, superior, frosty demeanor he'd had at Hogwarts. It wasn't directed at anyone, but it was obvious that the Malfoy scion was wearing his attitude like armor.

Lucius' reaction at seeing his son with The Boy Who Lived was priceless.

The Senior Auror moved forward and chose a chair between the two Malfoys, just slightly to the side. This way he had a ringside seat without being in the line of fire. "You know Draco, I could picture your father having a heart attack right now."

"I sincerely hope not, Potter. At least not until after I'm finished. I've waited too long for this." Draco pulled up a chair and leaned back, casually crossing an ankle over a knee. "Hello, Father." The disdain in his voice was as evident as the smirk on his handsome face.

"_You._ You worthless, pathetic, slimy little bastard." Lucius' countenance screwed up in disgust as he regarded his offspring.

"Now, Father. Is that any way to speak to your beloved son?" Draco tutted at the older man lightly, relishing the furious reaction he provoked.

"The best part of you ran down your mother's leg," Lucius hissed.

"Well the best part of you likely ran out of Grandmother's arse, but that's neither here nor there." Malfoy Jr's grey eyes held a malicious light as his father attempted to get to his feet.

Harry waited; ready to step in if anything went awry. He'd have been lying if he said he didn't enjoy watching his friend rip up on the old bigot. Hearing such crude sentiments expressed in the trademark posh Malfoy tones was equally entertaining.

Lucius gave up and regained his seat. "Why are you here? You haven't visited the entire time I've been in Azkaban. It was peaceful."

The younger man shook his head in mock sadness. "Really, Father. You're slipping if that's the best you can do these days. So sad when they lose their touch, isn't it, Harry?" Potter gladly nodded his agreement, watching the tension ratchet up another notch.

Draco returned his attention to Lucius. "I wanted you to realize the consequences of your choice to attempt to have me killed."

"Consequences? There were no consequences, you whelp."

"Oh, but there _were_." An unholy smile crossed Draco's face. "Think about it, Father: if you hadn't had me beaten so badly, I wouldn't have wound up at Malloy Manse. If I hadn't been there convalescing for so long, I wouldn't have fallen in love with Hermione. And if I hadn't fallen in love with Hermione, I wouldn't have chosen to pass vital information about Death Eater personnel and activities to the Order of the Phoenix."

Lucius went very still. His bloodshot grey eyes widened as he gripped the table's edge, but he remained silent.

His turncoat son began to applaud as he drove home his point, and Potter had the gall to join in. "There we are! Well done, old man. You're getting it now. You indirectly helped your precious Dark Lord lose the war, and subsequently get sent to hell. With any luck, he's saved you a seat. It's interesting- as badly as I wanted to see that lunatic lose, I didn't have the guts to help the Light until it meant protecting someone I loved. It became frightfully easy after that."

"Really? So you didn't care that you were endangering your sainted mother?" Lucius sneered but the waver in his voice was unmistakable.

"Mother was the only reason I returned after the attack, you fool. Even then I wondered if you'd had anything to do with my getting hurt, but I couldn't prove it."

"Yes. It helped that I was an accomplished Occlumens, and could hide my shock at your unfortunate return. Thank Merlin you didn't have any faces in your memory when the Dark Lord checked."

"I'm sure you were very glad of that." Draco idly inspected his nails then looked up with a sunny smile and obnoxiously cheery tone. "By the way, Hermione sends her regards."

"How nice," Lucius smiled thinly. "And how is the Mudblood bitch? I always regretted that we couldn't procure her for one of the revels. I would have enjoyed her. She was such a pretty little thing, filthy heritage aside. And so...passionate." He leered in remembrance.

His son wasn't fazed. "She's quite well; so kind of you to enquire. Good news: we became engaged to be married recently." Draco laughed as he saw Harry start. "I know I didn't mention it to you before, Potter - thought you'd like to enjoy the surprise along with my father, here. By the way, how would you feel about being Best Man?"

Harry smirked. "You know I wish you and Mione all the happiness in the world, my friend. It would be an honor."

Lucius raised a still-elegant brow. "_'my friend_?'"

The Boy-Who-Lived sent the Death Eater a 100-watt beam. "Oh yes. That was another side effect of your decision. After all these years, we've finally become close. Isn't that lovely? The Malfoy line has produced a good man in spite of itself." He reached over and clapped Draco on the shoulder. "He's a damned talented wizard, too. I took him to the range the other day, and he went for hours. He has quite the arsenal."

The elder Malfoy turned an ugly shade of puce. "I'm sure."

"Wait, Lucius - it gets even better." Harry's green eyes sparkled. "Minister Shacklebolt took my advice, and invited Draco to be a consultant for the Aurors. I think your son would make a brilliant Auror, personally. He's going to teach the department everything he knows."

"Everything?" Lucius went from puce to pale in an instant.

"Oh yes, Father. Everything you ever taught me. And you know what a good student I was; especially when you spoke. I hung on your every word, if you remember. I wanted to be just like Dear Old Dad. Hopefully when my child is born, I'll actually be worthy of inspiring that kind of loyalty. At my worst, I'll still be better than you ever were."

Harry happily broke in: "Draco, you could be a hopeless sot and an utter embarrassment, and you'll still be a better dad. Hell, you could be a cross-dressing circus act, and-"

Lucius cut Potter off, focusing his ire on his son. "Child? You would DARE sully the Malfoy line by siring a half-blood?"

"Don't get so uppity about half-bloods, Father. You followed one blindly for years, in case you've forgotten. And you already almost had a grandchild. Hermione lost the baby defending Potter here. It's okay, though: we're both young and healthy. I think she'll be willing to try again."

"What do you want, Draco? A baby with your looks and her brains?" The brunette snickered at the image.

"It can be almost any combination, Harry, as long as it doesn't get her godawful hair."

"I'm telling her you said that."

"Go ahead - she hates the Evil Hair Monster as much as I do."

Lucius looked between the two of them with an increasingly nauseated expression.

Draco glanced at his father, and snapped his fingers. "Potter, I meant to ask you - about the Kiss..."

"Yes?"

"Is there any way to make it public?"

"Sure, but families never agree to doing that."

"That's too bad. It could be an effective deterrent for others. I feel I should be civic-minded about this." Draco steepled his fingers and pretended to be lost in thought. "Get me the paperwork and I'll sign whatever you need."

The Malfoy Patriarch sat gobsmacked, gaping at his son, who moved to look him deeply in the eyes.

"And another thing, Lucius: you won't be buried in the Malfoy family crypt when what's left of you finally expires. I've donated your body to St. Mungo's for research." All three Aurors in the room tensed as the younger Malfoy leaned over further still. "You'll be able to do society some good for a change. Just think of all those eager young mediwitches and wizards in training, prodding your sorry corpse in the quest to better understand why some magical folk go bad."

"There is no way your mother agreed to this," Lucius whispered.

"On the contrary. When she heard what the charge was, she said it was too bad she couldn't kill you herself. She also said to tell you that she knew about you and Aunt Bella. Anyway, as the official head of the Malfoy family, the decisions are up to me. You know that. I held a conclave with some of the portraits of our illustrious ancestors, and explained the new direction our family is taking."

They would never-"

"They fell in line after I took one, shredded it, and burned the remnants where the others could watch."

"Why couldn't you have been this ruthless before?"

"Wouldn't have mattered; we still didn't believe in the same things. You'd still have been ashamed, and I still wouldn't give a shit. Potter? I think I've said just about everything. Fancy a pint?" Harry nodded and Draco raised his voice, "OI! Weasley! Are you thirsty? I'm buying the first round!" A muffled response in the affirmative could be heard.

Harry and Draco made to leave the room when Draco turned back. Lucius sat hunched, his eyes vacant as he replayed the conversation. He looked up as his son addressed him for the last time:

"I hope you enjoy your date with the Dementor. Maybe it'll even use tongue when it Kisses you. Very soon, you're going to be a drooling shell in a corner somewhere, shitting your pants like an infant. Your dignity won't even be a faint memory, and the entire Wizarding world will know just how far you've fallen. So tell me, you old son-of-a-whore, who's pathetic now?"

Lucius stared slack-jawed.

"Goodbye, Father."


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Just doing this for fun.

A/N: Wow! I didn't expect that much reaction to lil' ol Lucius getting his butt kicked. :) Big thanks to Dadn14, Moonlit-Midnights, Slytherin Princess 1313, dutch potterfan, Guest-without-initials, LB, articcat621, BellaDrobny, Kimm Possible, IvoryDarkWolf, GirForPrez, dragonsgirl21, ainokea2810, meahela87, GottaGetBackUp, and The Raven's Sight for taking the time to review! Your thoughtful points and kind words made my week, and it was also reassuring to hear that I'm not the only one who gets hooked into stories and reads instead of sleeping on occasion. ;) Sorry I don't have the chance right now to address each & every comment, but I'm trying to fit in cranking out another chapter for Playmate.

Thank you also to those who are following/favoriting and otherwise sticking with my story. If you're American, Happy Thanksgiving. If not, Happy Thursday(ish)!

* * *

After they left Azkaban, Harry, Ron and Draco met at a local pub called Dirk's. It was owned and operated by Dirk Winfield, a Senior Auror who had retired 15 years ago. As with many Muggle cop bars, the clientele fell into one of two categories: agents or groupies. Dirk's was one of the few locales where the hangers-on left Harry alone. It hadn't been that way when he started frequenting the pub, but Winfield had sorted things out quickly. As the owner was well over 6'5", built like an American defensive lineman, and known for fast wand work and equally quick fists, people tended to listen when he spoke. While he was still in fantastic shape, his age showed in the laugh lines at his eyes, and the silver shooting through his close-cropped auburn hair and beard.

The owner was behind the bar when the trio arrived, and he led them to a private booth at the back. Draco lagged slightly behind Ron and Harry as he took in the surroundings for the first time. The bar was a dingy little hole-in-the-wall where the odors of smoke, grease and ale cohabitated almost peacefully. Autographed magical pictures of law enforcement legends hung everywhere there was space. The patrons were a tough crowd, and Malfoy found himself hurrying to catch up with Potter and Weasley as he felt multiple sets of eyes assess and then recognize him.

The blond slid into the empty side of the booth and Harry handed him a menu. "Dunno if you're hungry, Malfoy, but Dirk's has some of the best pub food you'll ever eat."

Not wanting to offend the behemoth standing next to the table, Draco quickly ordered a pint of Guinness and a shepherd's pie. Weasley and Potter went with different brands of lagers, and two orders of fish and chips. Dirk ambled away, leaving the men to rehash the Azkaban visit.

"Potter, I thought of something as soon as we left. I, er, mentioned something that was supposed to be kept in confidence while we were in the cell..." Draco bit his lip as he thought of how to express his concern.

Harry understood immediately. "The Aurors in that cell made an Unbreakable Vow regarding confidentiality. They're capable of speaking only to Kingsley or me about anything they hear during interviews." Malfoy sat back, relieved. Granger would have killed or castrated him if his slip had been made public, and he was almost equally fond of his life and his bollocks.

Ron waved a freckled hand impatiently. "Yeah, yeah. Confidentiality- that's all well and good. Tell _me_, though - how did it go? I was dying of curiosity out there!"

Harry shot him a lopsided grin. "It. Was. Beautiful. Imagine everything you could ever see hurting Lucius Malfoy, then multiply it times 10. Draco was wicked." He hoisted his mug toward the ex-Slytherin in salute.

"Well, that shouldn't be surprising, Potter. I had years of practice being a cruel bastard. You of all people know that."

"True, I don't think any of us will forget anytime soon, but it was refreshing to see it aimed at someone else for a change!" Harry and Ron shared a snicker, and Malfoy shrugged good-naturedly. Potter's face took on a more serious cast, and he turned to his best friend.

"Ron, Draco had some news that he chose to share in there. I think you should be made aware of it."

The redhead winced. "Am I going to need more alcohol for this?"

"Probably, Weasley," Draco took a sip of his stout. "Granger proposed to me recently."

Blue eyes opened wide. "Wait- she proposed to you? What was all that with you coming to the Burrow to get permission?"

"I was trying to go about things the right way, at Potter's suggestion. Once Hermione finally decided to start speaking to me again after that fiasco, we agreed it was too early. However, after we returned to the apartment from the training course, she did it spur of the moment." An evil little smirk graced Malfoy's features. "In fact, do me a favor - when she tells you two about it, make a point of asking for details."

"Are we going to need alcohol after we hear _that?" _Harry was almost certain of the answer.

"Most definitely, and I'll be happy to buy it for you, just to see the look on her face."

Ron grinned and shook his head as their dinner arrived. "You're lucky you're rich, then. Cause if it's anything like I'm imagining, you'll be buying me my own brewery, Malfoy."

With that, they dug into their meals, and Draco was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food. The pie's crust was flaky and fresh ingredients had been used. While it was far from the cuisine prepared by his house elves, he had to admit it was still pretty damned good. The fish and chips smelled divine, and he decided to request that the next time he visited.

Ron unfortunately kept his habit of speaking with a full mouth. "Wha elf hppd?"

"Potter, translate."

"He says, 'what else happened?'"

Draco leaned back in his seat, and rubbed his belly. "Oh, not much...I just agreed to make the Kiss open to public viewing, told him that he lost the war for Voldemort after he put me in a situation where I got close to Granger, and there was something in there about donating his body to St. Mungo's for research. Potter had a few things to tell him as well. I think that about covers it."

"Pretty much," Harry grinned. "By the way, about the Best Man thing - if you were just getting his goat, I understand."

"BEFT MAN?" Bits of fish and chips sprayed the table.

They both ignored the ginger. "I was perfectly serious, Potter. If it hadn't been for you, none of this would be happening. And we've gotten to where we tolerate each other fairly well, wouldn't you say?" Malfoy's grey eyes sparkled as he teased his friend.

"Well, yeah. Now that we're not bent on mutual destruction, I guess you have a point." Potter sprinkled some more vinegar on his chips, and popped one into his mouth thoughtfully.

Draco cocked his head and regarded the men across from him. "You know, Malfoy weddings are fairly large affairs."

"And?"

"I'll need several groomsmen. Tradition dictates at least five. Weasley?"

"Erm, yes?"

"If my soon-to-be-better-half doesn't kill me for suggesting it, would you feel like putting on a tux?"

Ron goggled at him in disbelief. "Why would you ask me that, Malfoy? We've never been close."

"True enough, but you did matter to Hermione at one time, and she matters to me. If it would make her happy, that's good enough reason."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

The blond replied loftily, "One thing, Weasley - at the reception you either demonstrate table manners, or I swear I'll erect a shield charm around you to protect the other guests."

"Ah, there you are," Ron said dryly.

The blond checked his watch. "Seriously - think about it. I'll be in touch. Right now, I've got a temperamental witch to get home to." He set a few Galleons on the table and left.

Still in shock, Ron turned to his best friend. "I never thought I'd see the day we would sit down to dinner with Lord Wanker himself, and he'd ask _me_ to be part of his wedding!"

"Is that a no, Ron?"

"Are you kidding? If it would get my friendship back with Hermione, I'd wear a bridesmaid's dress."

"I'll be sure to tell Malfoy." The brunette stood quickly and melted into the shadows.

"Don't you dare, Harry. Harry?" Ron looked about wildly. "HARRY!"


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and nothing is being made from this.

A/N - Sorry about the lack of updates. I'd been focusing on Playmate, and then finals (and life) poked their ugly noses into things. Thanks as always for the follows and favorites, and of course my awesome reviewers: Dadn14 (more Dramione in this chapter); ainokea2810 (thank you!); AESIUOL (thanks!); Trelawney (glad you enjoyed. Thank you! I wouldn't look for a miracle on Ron's table manners); The Raven's Sight and Dragoness 101 (Thank you both. So happy you like it!); Shadowdancer9 (sorry for the sniffles - there will be a few more chapters before I wrap this one up. I still need to kill Lucius and get the kids married); Slytherin Princess 1313, sakuradancer3 and Dragonsgirl (thank you all - glad you liked it, and no we're not done yet. Hope this chapter is up to standard).

* * *

Draco returned to an empty flat. Hermione and he had moved into his place temporarily, while hers was being renovated. He smirked to himself; wait until she saw that their new living quarters was the entire top floor of the building, which he'd had converted to a gorgeous penthouse, if he did say so himself. She thought he'd been joking about buying the place, and he hadn't seen a reason to disabuse her of the notion thus far.

A note on the kitchen table informed him that Granger had gone out for drinks and a chat with Luna. He smiled and shook his head. Lovegood was weird, but she had a knack for telling a person what they truly needed to hear, in such a gentle fashion that one could imagine thanking her for delivering bad news. She would be good for Hermione right now. His girlfriend still insisted on keeping the Weasleys at bay and he'd been chipping gently at her resolve ever since the confrontation. Only an idiot could miss how much that pack of redheaded menaces meant to her.

Well, if she was out anyway, he supposed that now would be an excellent time to visit his mother. He freshened up, left a note for his fiancée and Apparated to Malfoy Manor. Arriving smoothly in his old bedroom, he gave his robes a cursory dust-off and went in search of Narcissa. He was surprised to find her in the study, in his father's old seat.

"Mother?" Draco approached warily, as though engaging a feral animal.

Narcissa's head shot up. Her hair was coming out of her chignon at wild angles, and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.

"Draco," she greeted him dully.

"How are you doing?" He took a seat across the desk from her.

"Oh, as well as can be expected, I suppose, when one is stuck on house arrest, one's mate is slated for mental and spiritual execution for trying to kill his own son, and said son doesn't visit often. And how are you, dear?" All of this delivered in soft, elegant yet acidic tones reserved for the upper crust.

"Compared to all of that? I'd have to say quite well. I saw him at Azkaban, you know."

"And how was that?"

"It was satisfying and sad at the same time," he sighed.

She nodded in understanding. "And how is your relationship with Miss Granger progressing?" He didn't miss the displeasure in her tone.

"It's going quite well, actually. That's what I am here to discuss with you this evening. Hermione and I are getting married."

"Oh...really? That's...lovely, I suppose." She took a moment to inspect the desk blotter as if it held all of life's most meaningful answers.

"Mother, I know you don't approve. I'm not asking you to. I just wanted to tell you before you saw it in one of the Wizarding papers."

"I appreciate that." She adopted a business-like tone, "And I suppose you want either the Malfoy or Black engagement ring from Gringott's?"

"No, thank you." He waited for her reaction.

"_'No, thank you?_' Since when is a family heirloom not good enough for a Mud...ggleborn?"

"Nice save," Draco said dryly. "I ordered an original ring commissioned for her. Knowing the views of both the Malfoy and Black families, I didn't feel it would be right to saddle her with something that may have represented past ignorance or misplaced hatred. I guess in that way, you _could_ say that a family ring wouldn't be good enough for my intended."

The ever-poised Malfoy Matriarch sat there in shock as she took in her son's words. He leaned forward, locking eyes with her to ensure she heard the last of what he'd come to say.

"I understand that you were brought up to believe as Father did about Muggles and Muggleborns. Between following the rhetoric you force fed me from toddlerhood, and my trying to make decisions intended to keep you safe during the war, I almost ruined my life, Mother. And I'm done with that. The war's over and the Fates have seen fit to grant me a second chance at true happiness. If you can find it in your heart to support my decision and be kind to Hermione and any children we may have, we'll make sure to open a place in our lives for you. If not," he shrugged, "then I bid you _adieu_. It's your choice." He rose, crossed to Narcissa and kissed her cheek lightly. "Think it over, and let me know. Either way, you are my mother, and I will always love you and provide for you on some level." He let his words sink in a moment. Now that he was the head of the Malfoy family, such a statement carried some weight. He turned smoothly from her. "If you'll excuse me, I have a ring to deliver." And he strolled away without a backward glance.

* * *

This time when he returned home, Granger was there. He was amused to discover that she was on the cute side of tipsy. She giggled when he picked her up and swung her in a circle, planting her back on the ground while he gave her a firm kiss on the lips.

"Hello, darling. Have a good time with Looney?"

True to form, she smacked his shoulder for using that less-than-complimentary nickname. "You're lucky you're cute, you know that?"

"Of course. And now that you're probably seeing two of me, you can double your viewing pleasure." He kissed the tip of her nose, then stepped back before she could react. "Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"Have a seat and I'll be right back." She sat obediently, too intoxicated to wonder what her favorite ferret was up to.

He returned from the loo and handed her a vial. "Drink this, please."

"Sobering Potion? Why?"

"Because I have something to show you, and would like to know that you're sober enough to _Apparate_ without splinching, and that you'll be able to appreciate my surprise."

She was lucid within moments of downing the potion. "What surprise?"

"Oh, I just wanted to show you the renovations on your apartment house."

"Tonight?"

"It can't wait. I promise. Come along, now," he took her in his arms and side-along _Apparated_.

They arrived in the alley beside the building. He wanted to make sure that she recognized that he'd brought her to the right place.

When they got to the lift, he let her enter first then removed a special key enabling them to access the top floor. She didn't miss this.

"Malfoy, where are we going? I wasn't on the top floor."

"I remember, love. You know those 'renovations' I mentioned?"

She rolled her eyes, "What did you do now?" Just as he was about to answer, the lift stopped, opening the doors.

He stepped behind her, playfully covering her eyes as he led her to the door of the penthouse. He wandlessly opened the main door, and brought her to the center of the living room. "OK, now you can peek."

Hermione obediently opened her eyes and found herself in an apartment four times the size of her flat. "Draco, what is this?"

"Remember when I said I'd buy the building?"

"You didn't."

"Afraid so." He didn't bother trying to appear contrite.

"What happened to the families who used to live on this floor?"

"I made them a deal to either move to different units in this building and receive a discount, or I gave them money to find a new place."

She blew out an exasperated breath. "You are truly incorrigible."

"Thank Merlin I'm stubborn, woman. Otherwise you'd have scared me off long ago." He gave her a lopsided grin and she melted.

"Now, shall I show you the rest of our new home?" She nodded and he took her through the mostly empty rooms.

"Draco, this place is wonderful! But there's almost no furniture."

"I know. Thought you would want some input on that." She paused thoughtfully and agreed.

"However, there is one item here that I think deserves special mention." They entered the kitchen.

"Ohmigod. Draco, that _isn't_-"

"On the contrary, Granger, that absolutely is. I had Potter get the safe house owner's information, and I made a deal to bring it here. I thought it would make a unique wedding present."

His fiancée walked slowly around the heavy, wooden kitchen table, running her fingers along the scars in the top; there was no doubting it - this truly was THE table. She looked up at the blonde, her chuckle dying when she saw the gleam in his silver eyes. He disrobed in a flash, waving his wand at her to render her starkers as well.

"DRACO!"

"Come here, love." He sat lightly on the tabletop.

"That really is unhygienic, you know."

"We have _Scourgify_ and cleaning products. Quit worrying and come closer, witch." She obliged, feeling surprisingly shy.

What followed from there was a slow, gentle, loving version of their first time. He waited until she was on top again then reached out to one of the benches, nabbing a small, black velvet box. She was close to climax soon enough, screaming 'yes!' repeatedly. During one of the cries he opened and held the box up to her.

"Tell me you love me."

"I do," she panted. "I love you."

"Tell me you want this." It was obvious how hard he was working to keep himself under control.

"I do."

"Now tell me you're mine, forever."

"Always."

He took the ring out of its box and slipped it onto her finger. "Now you have two embarrassing versions of how we got engaged. Good luck picking one."

"Malfoy?"

"Granger?"

"Shut up and take care of business."

"Gladly." Draco flipped them over and the gentle, loving part of the act went out the window as he happily finished things off for both of them. A short time later, they were lying on the table, breathing heavily and enjoying a bit of post-coital bliss.

"I don't know how we'll ever have company over to eat in the kitchen. Merlin only knows how many people are aware of the significance of this table." She blushed at the idea.

He sat up, doing his best to present a begging stance. "Oh, please - have Potter and Weasley over for dinner and serve them here. I promise to be good for WEEKS if you'll do that."

She beamed at him. "I'll think about it. Now, remind me why we like this table so much again."


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and the only thing I hope to make from this is some readers happy.

A/N: Thank you to the followers/favoriters - I keep hoping this story will pick up, though it's never approached "Playmate's" popularity. Big thanks to my reviewers this time around: Grovek26 (that part made me giggle, too. And there's no way I can believe Draco would be good for weeks, regardless); stronghermione (you made my day! And if you read all of this in one sitting, you must have been in front of your computer for quite a while. Which part made you angry? Yeah, immediate sunshine doesn't work for me, either. If you like Lucius, try reading my fic "Playmate." He's a lot of fun in that one. Glad you found the story, and that you were kind enough to write in. By all means, feel free to add my work to your community- I take that as high praise); LB (I'm happy that you enjoyed his counter-proposal. I can't wait to see her have to try to tell everyone how it happened!); arcticcat621 (Thank you! I'm so pleased you've stuck with the story all this time); Trelawney (Hello, friend! It's easy to write Draco in a lovable light, since I adore the snarky brat. I can't say how long I'll stay with this story. Next semester's going to be heavier than usual, and I may have to cut back to one story for a while); Slytherin Princess 1313 (Thanks much! Is 13 your lucky number, too?)

* * *

One can lounge naked on a kitchen table for only so long. However, as that time has never been officially defined, Hermione and Draco were still lying there after an indecent amount of time and a hastily-cast Warming Charm.

"Granger?" He reached over idly and played with a particularly unruly lock of her hair.

"Mmmm?" She lazily half-opened one dark eye, decided that nothing was on fire or otherwise amiss, and closed it again. "M'listening."

"About the wedding, love...you _do _realize it's going to be a huge, splashy affair, right?"

She rolled to face him in mild exasperation. "Must it?"

"Absolutely. Malfoy weddings are always obnoxiously high-profile, with an indecent amount of money spent."

"I'd be fine with eloping, or with a small wedding, Draco. Really." Her brow furrowed.

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head emphatically. "Not a chance. I won't have anyone believing, much less stating, that our nuptials were lower-key because you were a Muggleborn. It might seem silly to you, but in Pureblood society, a small wedding is seen as a slight to the bride and her family, and I won't accept anyone finding the least thing to twist into meaning I don't love and respect you completely."

Her expression softened and she smiled. "Never have I heard such a pretentious custom explained in such a sweet fashion."

"It's a gift," he shrugged casually and then prepared to take on a tougher subject, praying this would go as smoothly.

"Hermione, with affairs like these, it's necessary to have several attendants on both the bride and groom's sides. Five on each is socially acceptable as a minimum."

"Okay..." _Where was he going with this? _ She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I don't have that many close friends, you see. I've asked Potter to be Best Man," (her eyes lit up),"And as far as my mates are concerned, I only want Blaise and Theo standing with me. I know that they'll be decent to you." He stopped to check her reaction thus far.

"All right, so that would give you three, correct?"

"Erm, yes." He looked down at the tabletop, tracing a pattern.

"Draco, why are you stalling? Do you have anyone else in mind?"

He took a deep breath. "_RonandGeorgeWeasley_."

She drew back, shocked. "Ron and George? Seriously? _You_ want Ronald and George Weasley to stand up on your side in our wedding? I can't believe you! There's no way they'd do it, anyway."

His smirk returned. "I had drinks with Potter and Weasley after our Azkaban visit. I asked Weaselbee then if he'd be willing to do it if you didn't kill me for making the suggestion."

"Forget about killing; I'd just like to understand for now, if you please."

He reached over and took her hands in his. "Granger, I've known for years how much the Weasley family has meant to you. They've been like your Wizarding adoptive clan. I get it." She started to protest, and he held up an elegant hand to stop her. "I also get that you've been miserable on some level since the falling out. So here's the wedding present I am requesting from you: make up with the ginger mob."

It was obvious that she was considering his statement seriously. "Making up with them would be my present to you? Draco, I don't follow."

"It's simple, really. Seeing you happy makes me happy. When you're sad, I feel uneasy and then pissed off when I can't fix whatever is hurting you. Please, Mione." Those striking grey eyes beseeched her, and she could deny him nothing. She still didn't feel like totally accepting, so she nodded instead of speaking. Hey, it was petty, but she was only human.

"Why George, though? I didn't think you were an especial fan of his."

"He makes me laugh, even when I'm the butt of the joke sometimes. Plus he's got a knack for defusing volatile situations, and we may be in dire need of that on our wedding day. I thought he might enjoy being a part of things. And if we make him a member of the wedding party, perhaps he'll give us a discount on some fireworks."

"Always looking for a deal, eh Malfoy?" She gave him a wry smile.

"First and foremost, I'm a businessman, love. So I'm always searching for a bargain."

"And did you get a bargain in me?"

"I got a complete and utter steal when I got you. You're the second-best deal I ever made." He moved away from her quickly when her eyes darkened.

"_Second_-best?"

"I believe I have to knock off a few points due to the cost incurred when I increase both my property and medical insurance to deal with your temper. You're scary, woman." He grinned at her and she shook her head in (mostly) mock disgust.

"Don't think I'll forget this, Malfoy. I still want to know what your best deal was." She began to loom menacingly-

And both started upon hearing a tapping at the penthouse kitchen window. Draco got up to let an owl in. It flew to the edge of the table, and extended its leg. When he removed the message, it flew away.

_Malfoy-_

_After you left the pub, Ron told me he'd be willing to put on a bridesmaid's dress if it got him back on Hermione's good side. Figured you and Mione could have some fun with this information. He's my best mate, but I won't pretend he doesn't deserve it._

_Hope you're both well. Gin says hello._

_HP_

Draco passed the letter to his fiancée. "Now you HAVE to make up with them. Just imagine the benefits of having the Weaselette on your side while you torture The Weasel King."

She read the note then gave him an evil smile. "This is going to be so much fun. I think I'll start by telling him that if he's serious about the dress, I'll give him another chance. Then I'll insist that I've chosen hot pink and seafoam for my colors."

"That's rubbish! There is no way he'll fall for that."

Hermione pulled him close. "Bet me. This IS Ronald we're talking about. I'll just say it's some kind of upper-class Pureblood custom. I can fool him in my sleep."

"Gods- you are so sexy when you're bitchy, and it's not at me."

"Enjoy it while it lasts. I'm sure it will change soon enough." She hopped off the table and began picking up her clothes and handing him his when she came across them.

"What's the rush?"

She pecked him on the lips. "I've got one best friend to drive insane, another to make up with, and a wedding to plan that will knock Pureblood society on their collective inbred arses. I'm a busy woman, Draco."

"Granger?"

"What now?"

"Scratch what I said about second-best."

"Damn right."


End file.
